Severing the Past
by Wendynat
Summary: Two padawans escape the attack on the Jedi Temple and, in their quest to seek out other survivors, are swept into adventures they never expected. Some RotS spoilers.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer:** No beard, no ranch, no huge bank account... yep. Definitely not George Lucas. Star Wars is his, I'm just playing with his toys.

Note: Thanks to Rilla for beta services!

**Severing the Past**

**Wendynat**

Prologue  
----------  
A fire crackled in the quiet room. Glows of orange and red lit the rich wood floor, shone in the eyes of the two children sitting before him. But he saw none of it, lost in his story even as the children were.

"She knew something was happening – she paused, looked around, but didn't see behind her. Didn't see her own army attack. They said the Jedi should have sensed it, sensed the betrayal, but maybe those clones didn't think of it as a betrayal. I don't think we'll ever know, not really."

"But, Uncle, how-"

"No more questions." Blinking rapidly, he stood. His friend wouldn't forgive him if he frightened her children. "Off to bed with you now." The children scampered off and he smiled wryly. Brienna was annoyed that they listened to him so readily; had it been she who ordered them to their rooms, a hundred excuses and reasons to stall the inevitable would be spilling from their lips. But when he said bed, they jumped. It was his privilege, he supposed. He had no family of his own, even the title by which the children called him was honorary. He was not their blood uncle, just a close friend of their mother. Very close.

He shivered.

The room felt colder without them there. Brienna wouldn't be back for hours yet, business was doing well and she had to get the shop in order for the week ahead. Left to his own thoughts, he sat for long minutes and stared into the fire. Finally he stood, limbs creaking, and listened. The children were asleep.

_No more questions._

Walking quietly to his room, he shut the door and tried to push the memories back, tried to stop his feet from taking him to where his subconscious commanded. He couldn't. He moved to his bed but didn't pull back the covers as was his normal routine. Instead he sank to the floor, knees protesting, and quietly pulled up a floorboard just underneath the edge. His hands shaking, he lifted the small box. Opened it.

A single lightsaber lay within, its hilt scratched from far too frequent use, the durasteel smudged from the sweat of a young man as he watched his comrades fall. Too many. Too many.

_No more questions._

A tear fell.


	2. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** No beard, no ranch, no huge bank account... yep. Definitely not George Lucas. Star Wars is his, I'm just playing with his toys.

**Note**: Thanks to Rilla for her beta services!

**Severing the Past**

**Wendynat**

Chapter One  
---------------  
_"No more questions."_ The Jedi Master pushed him forward, though he tried to struggle back to where the fighting was. Ayliana was already gone, obeying the orders without protest. "Go, here, through the chute. Follow Ayliana. Hide there, wait-"

"A Jedi doesn't hide!" As Padawan to a Master Historian, he hadn't yet been out on an official assignment with his Master like the others, but he had learned enough to know that was the case. A Jedi did not hide from danger. Research in the archives, stolen looks at the forbidden texts that his Master was cataloguing, had taught him that.

The Master's lightsaber glowed and he watched his braid – his coveted braid – fall to the floor. Bending down he picked it up, then held it numbly in his hand, staring at the charred end. The Master's voice was harsh and urgent. "You're not a Jedi! Remember that, _you're not a Jedi_. Hide in the city. Do not reveal yourselves. Now go!"

Still he hesitated. The sounds of fighting were coming near again. The Master looked behind and then shoved him unceremoniously to the entrance of the chute. "You're a Padawan, and a Padawan does as he's told!" Unable to think of an argument, he reluctantly climbed in. "My last orders for you, Padawan: _Hide. **Live**_." Then the door slid shut and he slid down, landing hard at the bottom of the trash chute.

* * *

"What are we going to do?" he asked, looking at Ayliana in the dim light. They had made their way slowly through the catacombs of trash chutes, and were finally near the bottom of the temple. Or so he assumed. In one hand he still clutched his severed braid.

He hoped Ayliana didn't notice.

She frowned, moving around the small receptacle and studying the walls. He waited patiently, his heart no longer pounding as she made her inspection. How many was it, now? Ten? Twenty? They had been high in the temple when the attack came. Very high… near the council chamber…

He wrenched his mind from that thought and forced himself to concentrate on the present.

She had done this at each stop, sensing which section of wall was next to a neighboring chute. They were fortunate, she had told him, that the waste system was contained to just one part of the building's structure. He supposed she was right, though he could remember how irritating it was when he was on the other side of the library and had to make his way to the opposite wall just to toss out something. Scratching his chin absently, he wondered how many of the old texts had survived, and whether the archives… _no. _

_The present. Think of the present._ Even his own Master had preached that to him, though the older man had rarely followed those orders himself. A side effect, perhaps, of being a Master Historian rather than a Knight. He supposed he'd never find out, now. His Master had been one of the first to fall.

Forcing his mind to the present once again, he trained his eyes on Ayliana. _The present._ At first, watching her work had been distraction enough from his thoughts but now, after dozens of such occasions, the novelty had worn off. He closed his eyes, breathing deeply as he reached for the meditative state his Master had been working with him on. He could feel her moving around the room still, could hear the disgusted noise she made as she saw – and stepped in, to judge by the sound – something repulsive. From within his meditative state, he felt a faint amusement. Very faint.

His mind floated, suspended, for an undetermined amount of time before he was brought out of it by the sudden hum of a lightsaber. She had found it. Immediately he stood and moved to her side, ignoring the unpleasant squelch as he stepped in something best left to the imagination.

"It's not a trash chute, but it's even better," she muttered, her hands shaking as she directed her saber to cut through the wall. She moved slowly, to minimize the noise, but they both held their breath while she worked, hoping that the sound would be unnoticed by any clone troopers – or worse – that might still be in the temple.

"Even better?" he whispered, kneeling down in preparation. His job was to catch the piece of wall – metal in this case - before it could clang against anything and announce their presence.

She nodded, sweat beading on her brow as her green saber cut through the dull silver of the wall. "You'll see."

He wanted to argue, but she was concentrating and, perhaps more importantly, she was his elder. A Padawan, still, but her braid had grown almost to her lower back while his was just a couple of handspans… no. It _had_ been a couple of handspans down his back.

Thankfully, his musings were interrupted by the fall of a round piece of metal. He reached out and caught it automatically, laying it beside them as Ayliana peered through the opening.

"It's a steep one," she whispered. "Do you think-"

"I should go first. I'm heavier."

"That's what I was about to say."

He ignored her clipped tone and climbed through the hole, careful to keep his saber from banging against the sides. And then he fell. His stomach surged as the angle of the chute increased and he hoped that Ayliana was correct about it being 'even better.' He'd already bruised one leg, landing in a collection of discarded practice sabers in one of the other trash receptacles.

It seemed like minutes that he slid before the chute disappeared from around him and he was falling through clear air. He pulled on the Force – just a little bit – to help slow his fall. The landing was relatively soft, but one ankle was bent under him and he hissed as he crawled out of the way of the opening.

He rubbed at his ankle, hoping it wouldn't swell. He could hear the low sliding noise as Ayliana shot out after him and he was vaguely disappointed when she landed with apparent ease. Sighing, and rubbing his ankle, he glanced around him.

_Even better, indeed_, he thought. _The laundry receptacle. _

"You're all right?" Ayliana asked, her voice muffled as she bent over to rummage through the clothes. He stared at her in confusion. What was she looking for? Lifting her head, she looked at him. "Are you all right?" He swallowed, nodding, and she went back to her search.

"Did you lose your saber?"

She shook her head. "No. Listen, we'll stand out too much in these clothes. No one's wearing Padawan robes to look fashionable." He still stared at her in confusion and she sighed irritably. "People are wearing replicas of Master garb, not Padawan garb, N'oenar."

"Oh." He looked around at the robes and reached out to pick up a dark tunic. It was just like… he cut that thought off immediately. It was a Master's tunic. That was all he needed to know.

"That one will work. That color's popular right now," she commented, her face hidden by her hair as she continued to look through the pile.

Popular. She would know. Ayliana was not only older than N'oenar, but also far more experienced with the world outside the temple. Granted, he had assisted his Master in a few ventures, but none of those trips had afforded him an opportunity to interact with 'normal' people. Historians, political figures, the famous. Not the regular people. Not the people who inhabited the undercity of Coruscant. Ayliana's Master, on the other hand, had helped organize the security of the city itself. She was often out and about, running errands for her Master or working with him on official assignments.

While he remained lost in thought, Ayliana finished changing her own outer garb and threw a couple of pieces of dark clothing his way before heading towards the large wide door on one end of the room. It was, he deduced, the door through which the laundry machinery would reach to retrieve the discarded clothing. Or would it, now that there were no Jedi?

No Jedi. The braid felt heavy in his hand. They had avoided speaking of it, but now was as good a time as any. His eyes on his braid, he cleared his throat. "Do you think… why do you think the clones turned on us? On the Jedi?"

"We… they weren't all killed by clone troopers. Some of them – the Masters I saw - were killed by…"

She trailed off and he dared a glance at her face. It was ashen, and he had a good idea that his own was a similar shade.

"You saw him, too, then?"

She simply nodded.

"The Hero with No Fear." N'oenar felt a lump form in his throat and he angrily tugged on the black tunic. "Well. The HoloNets were certainly right about that."

"Don't."

"Don't what?"

"Don't let the hate take you, N'oenar."

He paused and looked at his feet. Idly he thought his ankle might very well swell from that last fall. Fall. A Fallen Jedi. They had been spoken of in whispers, but he'd never seen one before. He hoped he'd never see one again.

He'd never have guessed that Anakin Skywalker would be the first that he'd meet.

After a few moments Ayliana spoke again. "There have to be other survivors. Other Jedi, around the galaxy…"

He would have been more comforted by her words had her tone been less of a question. Regardless, he seized on the thought. "You're right. There have to be. The clones couldn't have gotten to all of them, right? There will be others, maybe others like us… on other planets, the Outer Rim..."

He couldn't look at her. She seemed to feel the same way, because she tossed another bit of clothing at him and said in a carefully controlled voice, "We'll find them, then. Go on. Put it on. You can't walk around the city in those Padawan clothes. No one's wearing those for fashion, you won't blend in."

_Hide. **Live.**_

With a nod, he did as he was ordered.

* * *

"There's a lot of smoke," he whispered. Beside him, Ayliana nodded. They were hidden in the crowd, having crept safely away from the temple using the droid paths that led to and from the laundry doorway. They had been fortunate that the opening had been close enough to the pavement that a drop wasn't out of the question.

Fortunate.

The crowd that was gathered outside the temple was another fortunate thing. They had blended in easily, careful to keep their gazes trained on the Jedi Temple so as not to call attention to themselves. As they moved through the throng of watchers, they passed a number of people clad in dark tunics similar to the one he wore. It seemed Ayliana had been right about that, at least.

"Come on," she said quietly. "I can't… I can't watch anymore."

"Right." Swallowing hard, he took her hand and backed them through the crowd, his bulkier form making way easily through the crush of people. Behind them, he could hear a clone trooper ordering people back, the voice sending a cold chill down N'oenar's spine. He quickened their pace and soon, they were through.

Ayliana took the lead then, guiding them through alleyway after alleyway, down dark streets and past shadowy figures. He was soon lost, his sense of direction completely useless in these twisting pathways. At first he was tense, waiting for a shout to come up from behind them, indicating that they'd been seen and recognized for who they were. Or who they had been. As time drove on, he began to relax. Even the shadowy figures seemed disinterested in their presence and, for the most part, they were left alone.

However, in one dark alleyway they weren't so lucky.

"Wanna to buy some deathsticks?"

N'oenar was shocked. Deathsticks were illegal, very illegal. Forgetting himself, he opened his mouth to demand that the man explain himself, but Ayliana nudged him with her elbow and shook her head. "We don't have the credits."

A shadow detached from the wall. "Don't have the credits?" A sneer was evident in the voice and N'oenar shifted one hand to the hilt of his saber, still hidden under his cloak. He didn't want to use it, not in the undercity, not where there could be witnesses, but they might not have a choice. "Those robes of yours would do. Nice replicas. Had to have cost a load of credits, those did."

N'oenar didn't like the way the man's voice changed when he mentioned credits. His hand tightened on his saber as the man moved closer. "Come on. Trade the black one for a deathstick?"

"No. Thank yo-" The word wasn't even complete before the man's hand whipped out towards Ayliana, a long slender blade glinting in low light. Without thought, N'oenar's own blade sprang to life and with a low hum it flowed through the air next to Ayliana's. A scream tore from the man's throat before his voice was silenced forever by blue and green blades of light.

A sickening thud was the only other sound in the alleyway.

He stared at his lightsaber, frozen as reality smashed into him. He had used it. Truly used it. Years of practice, hundreds of drills against the other younglings, and until now his blade had never met flesh.

A hot knife through butter.

That was what it was like – not the aftereffects, of course… butter certainly didn't smolder and a knife didn't leave a char of black ash in its wake. But the feel, the minute resistance as the blade of light pushed through flesh. Such a small resistance, barely discernible, and then smooth. It was simple. Easy.

Except for the scream.

Butter didn't scream.

Maybe it wasn't like a knife through butter, after all.

A hand pulled at him. "Come on! We've got to go!" Ayliana's voice was strained, shrill. He wrenched his gaze from the glowing blade and turned to her, swallowing when he saw the tiny pinpoints of blood on her tunic.

_Hide. **Live.**_

With a nod, he turned off his saber and took her hand, stepping around the fallen man. A simple robber who had seen two young people and thought them easy prey. How many other lowlifes would they attract? They needed to move, and quickly. Get out of this dark area of the city, get off of Coruscant. It was their only chance.


	3. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** No beard, no ranch, no huge bank account... yep. Definitely not George Lucas. Star Wars is his, I'm just playing with his toys.

**Note**: Thanks to Rilla for her beta services!

**Severing the Past**

**Wendynat**

Chapter Two

By the time either of them spoke again, they were far from the alleyway that would stay forever in N'oenar's memory. He had blanked his mind carefully, not wishing to think any more. It was an odd sensation, to stay in a semi-trance while running and hiding in the shadows, but he quickly became accustomed to it.

"We've got to find somewhere to stop. I can't… we won't get out of the undercity before daylight. Well, not this part of it, at any rate."

N'oenar looked at her in confusion, the peaceful trance slipping from him at the sound of her voice. "Not before daylight? But I thought-"

"We need to stop, or find other clothes. If we keep moving we'll likely just run into another one of those…"

N'oenar nodded in agreement. "I don't want to run into anyone else. Not looking like this."

"We look too wealthy-"

"Wealthy murderers," he said dryly, pointing at her red-spattered tunic. The stains were light, but evident. Reaching over, he pulled her cloak around to hide the tell-tale signs, ignoring her cool glare. "Look, let's find something else to wear."

She raised an eyebrow and leaned against the wall, first checking to make sure it was at least passably clean. "Oh? And how exactly should we do that? Know many merchants open this time of night?"

"I don't know any merchants, Ayliana. I've never been… here." This wasn't the part of town his Master had frequented, that was certain. He sighed and slumped against the wall, making a face. Of all the people in the Jedi Temple to be in this situation, he was likely the worst. A Master Historian's Padawan. The only ones more ill-equipped to handle the city were probably the Younglings.

He swallowed hard.

"I've never been anywhere, really. Master Dannew is a Historian, not a Knight. Not anymore. He used to be, but-" He stopped abruptly. _The present._ Clearing his throat, he continued, "If you want to know the political situation on Gabris Prime, I'm your man. History of slave traders in Outer Rim? Your man. Jedi and Sith philosophy spanning a thousand years ago to today? That's me. Merchants in Coruscant that sell clothing in the middle of the night? Can't help you."

Ayliana watched him tiredly. He didn't even want to know what she was thinking. She opened her mouth once and closed it, then shook her head and sighed. "Let's just rest, then."

N'oenar muttered an agreement and glanced around. The alleyway was empty, and he didn't sense anyone else about. Ayliana mustn't have, either, and her senses were more attuned than his were. It was as good a spot as any, he supposed, though he couldn't help but think of his comfortable bed back in the Jedi-

_The present._

Ayliana sunk to the ground and sighed. He cleared his throat. "Go ahead and sleep first. I'll keep watch-"

"No, you should go firs-"

"Ayliana, you need to rest. You've been working a lot harder than I have, sensing our way." He saw her open her mouth to protest again and he sighed. Sometimes her altruism was more than he could stand. He'd forgotten that about her. "I'm too wound up to rest right now. Go on. Please."

Thankfully she didn't argue. Huddling into her cloak, she was soon asleep, her breathing deep and even.

He envied her.

Alone with his thoughts, he slid down the wall and sat on the cool pavement of the alleyway. He watched Ayliana for a few moments and then sighed, shifting his gaze to his hands. _Wealthy murderers_. Just murderers, really. He didn't know how many credits Ayliana was carrying, but he only had a few. As a general rule, Padawans only carried what they may need in an emergency. And since he rarely left the Jedi Temple, he didn't carry many.

He didn't even have any idea how much new clothes would cost them.

It crashed in on him, then, just how useless he was in this situation. Ayliana knew her way around the city, around normal people. She knew how to blend in, how to hide. What to say to people trying to sell deathsticks.

What did he know? He hadn't been completely joking earlier, when he was listing his abilities. If it wasn't academic, he likely didn't have a clue. And right now, academic pursuits weren't of any use.

The uncomfortable question that had haunted the edges of his mind returned.

_Why him_?

The Master had passed other padawans and younglings to grab his shoulder, to pull him out of the group that was gathering to meet the attacking clone troopers. Then he'd grabbed Ayliana and led them both away from the fighting. To safety.

So many, now dead. Friends. Mentors. The wise. And the foolish. All that knowledge, lost. All those lives, lost… no. Not lost. One with the Force. It was a line from the Jedi Code: _There is no death; there is the force._ He repeated those words to himself, hoping that it would make the thought of their deaths less painful.

It didn't work.

Slowly, he pulled the braid from his pocket and laid it in his open palm, the dark brown a stark contrast to his pale skin. Even in the dim light.

A tear slid down his cheek and he felt a rush of shame. A Jedi didn't cry. But he wasn't a Jedi, was he? And, considering the situation… even Master Yoda would likely allow him these few tears.

"Why me?" he whispered, his voice thick. He jumped when a low voice answered him.

"Why you? Why anyone?"

"No, no. I mean, why did Master Lomar choose me? Why save _me_? There were others, so many others-"

"The Force guided him. The will of the Force, N'oenar. Evil things happen, but it will end in balance."

He wished, fervently, that he could share that loyal confidence.

"But-"

She sighed. "I don't know. Maybe he knew we could help each other-"

"You, yes. But what help am I?"

She stared at him evenly. "Your worth will be shown. Have faith." Then she smiled. "You were a quick hand with that saber, N'oenar. That certainly helped. And it will help again, I have a feeling."

"Maybe." He looked back down at his braid. He didn't know Ayliana well, but she sounded so much like a Master that her voice comforted him. _Have faith._ "I'm not… I didn't know… I've never killed anyone before."

"I know." She paused just a moment. "Sleep, N'oenar. Tomorrow will be here soon."

He could use her confidence and faith as a shield against the emotions and doubts that tried to slide into his mind. Wrapping himself in his cloak, he let out a long breath and then followed her order.

_Confidence. Faith. There is no emotion; there is peace._

To his surprise, sleep came swiftly.

* * *

"Where are we going, again?" N'oenar asked, frowning at his companion. Like him, she had her cloak pulled tightly around her, the hood drawn up. Rather than it causing them to stand out, it was a perfect way to blend in; it appeared that most of the inhabitants of the undercity preferred anonymity. 

"To a friend."

"A friend."

"Trust me," she snapped, irritation finally beginning to break through her serenity. He was oddly pleased at that, and subsided with a small smile.

In silence, they continued to walk. Her gait was smooth and relaxed, while his was tense and ready – particularly when they passed by some of the more unsavory types. Watching from within the deep confines of his hood, he wondered at them and their lives. Did they end up here on the street of their own volition? Or was it simply a throw of the chance cube? How far removed was his thread of fate from theirs?

At the moment, not far at all, he realized. It was a sobering thought.

"Here." Ayliana nudged him towards a small café. An unlit sign above the door proclaimed it to be 'Lysira's Lair'. It was closed.

"We'll have to come back, it's not-" N'oenar's eyes widened as Ayliana moved to a sensor pad and pressed her hand against it. A small droid eye – one he recognized from the archives as one of the original versions of that particular model - extended from the wall and scanned her face, chirping and whirring. It retracted, and the door slid open.

"Hurry, we can't let anyone follow." He glanced at her, then nodded and stepped through into the dim room.

It was a bar as well as a café, he realized. And not quite as seedy as he'd expected for a business in the undercity. Turning, he whispered that thought to Ayliana, and was surprised to see her grin. "Wait till you see it with customers, N'oenar. Seedy doesn't even begin to describe it."

"Aye, that's the truth now, isn't it?"

Before N'oenar could even turn towards the source of that loud cheerful voice, Ayliana had brushed past him. "Lysira!"

"Ayliana, love! I've never been so happy as when the eye told me who was at the door! I thought… " He watched as the short, stocky woman reached up to touch Ayliana's head. "Not a hair harmed, I see? Good. Good."

"Lysira, this is N'oenar. He's another Padawan. From the temple." Lysira smiled at him, and the contrast between her dark red lip paint and bright white teeth was startling. "We…" she trailed off and N'oenar cleared his throat. He understood why she'd stopped – how to explain what they'd been through?

Lysira patted her cheek and then moved to one of the tables, pulling three chairs down from atop it. "Sit, and speak. We've all heard some of what happened at the temple… well, the official version." The sneering tone of those last two words spoke volumes on just how much weight she placed on the 'official version' of events. Before yesterday, he would have been scandalized. Now…

"I imagine it left a good bit out," he muttered, taking one of the seats.

"Always does. A Jedi rebellion, indeed." She snorted. "For one, the official version said you were all dead. The ones in the temple, at least. Clear now that that's not the case, is it?"

Ayliana shook her head. "I… I don't know. We might be the only ones, Lysira. The only ones that made it out." N'oenar's head whipped towards her – was she crying? He couldn't tell – her hood was pulled forward again.

Lysira patted her on the back. "Sweet girl. If you made it, others will have as well. Unless you think you're craftier than all the others?"

N'oenar cleared his throat. "Well. A Master helped us get out, it's the only way we did. Most… most of us wanted to keep fighting, but he made us…"

"And right he was!" Lysira declared, her brightly painted cheeks darkening. "I'll never hold with the way those Jedi have their youngsters fighting and doing all sorts of things – why, Ayliana's Master had her working the undercity, questioning folks - and not the nicest folks, either, I'll have you know. I don't hold with it."

"I'm old enough to-"

"Now, you listen to me, young lady. You're an adult I know – barely, I might add - but you're still too young to be doing the types of things your Master has you doing." N'oenar's eyes widened when she raised one large finger and shook it at Ayliana. "On our planet, you'd still be sitting in training for another five to ten years, depending on the career you were looking at. I trained under another club owner for near on seven years before I was allowed to open my own shop. Course, that was ages ago now. No sense in rushing things. And this one is even younger than you are, unless I miss my guess."

N'oenar stared. He'd never heard anyone _criticizing_ the Jedi way before. Of course he knew that there were some that didn't agree with their policies, or their power, or their political stance, but this was different. Why shouldn't Ayliana be out doing her duties? She was capable. What did age have to do with it?

"I'm younger, yes. But Ayliana has plenty of experience-"

"Right, right, I know. Different ways and all. We're not on Jabiim anymore. Doesn't mean I have to like it, or agree with it, now does it?"

"Lysira, age doesn't matter. Look at that Queen of Naboo – the one who's a Senator now. She was only fourteen when she defended her planet-" Ayliana was interrupted by a rude noise and a muttered comment about 'those Naboo'. To his surprise, she just smiled. "We have this conversation too often, don't we?"

"I suppose. But this one hasn't heard it-"

"I've heard enough, I think." N'oenar muttered before remembering himself. "I mean, with all due respect. I didn't-"

Lysira's booming laugh interrupted him. He knew his cheeks were red, but he was relieved that she didn't appear to have taken offense. "Right, right. Well, now. I suppose you came here for help? You know I owe you a fair bit, but I won't call you on it with this one."

Ayliana nodded gratefully. "We need to… we need to find somewhere to rest, hide. We have to search for other survivors."

"Search for others?" Lysira eyed them both in turn. "Well. Noble enough, I suppose. But maybe you ought to just find a way off the planet, dear. Finding survivors mightn't be the easiest, you know. They'll be hiding as much as you are."

That made a great deal of sense to N'oenar. Before he was able to agree, Ayliana spoke.

"We have to try."

_Hide. **Live.**_

N'oenar glanced at her. "Ayliana, Lysira is right. We ought to just leave Coruscant, and search in other systems for survivors. If we stay-"

"_We have to try._"

* * *

N'oenar woke slowly, his lids reluctant to let in the light though he was finally well-rested. The bed Lysira had given him was softer than he'd expected, possibly the softest he'd ever slept on, though it could possibly be the comparison to cold pavement that made him think that. Yawning, he stretched and lingered under the heavy blanket, hoping to forestall the step out into the cool air. To forestall the step back into reality. 

The sound of indistinct voices finally prompted him to slide out and pad quietly to the door. He was about to announce his presence when he stopped and listened through the crack in the door.

"I'll go. The clothes aren't an issue, I'm close to your daughter's size-"

"Ayliana, too many know your face. Pretty thing you are, even though you won't take my advice and use some paints to show off your features a bit more. You think people are going to forget you? N'oenar will do fine."

"I have to do it, he can't-"

"Can't he?"

For a long moment there was only silence. N'oenar moved closer to the door, straining his ears and wishing he could see their faces. He dared not use the Force to enhance his senses – it would be like a beacon to Ayliana.

_Luminous beings are we._

Finally, Ayliana spoke. "I… I know there's a reason he was chosen. Master Lomar has always been able to see… opportunities. Keys. But, he's young. He's not… not who I would have chosen, if it was my choice.

He heard Lysira laugh then. "Young, is he? Not so much younger than you, you whelp!"

"In the ways that matter, he is. He's capable, but so inexperienced! He's not even used to being outside-"

"He's got wings. He just needs a chance to spread them."

Even from the doorway he could hear Ayliana's sigh. "I just… I'd rather go. I feel protective of him; he's like a younger brother. It's only been a day but… I'll worry."

"You think I don't understand that?" Lysira's voice sounded amused. "I've watched three of my own young ones fly on; watched them leave the planet, even. Never thought they were ready. But they've done all right. Kylia will be flying off soon, too. Then I'll only have one more home in the nest."

"Oh? Where is she going?"

"Back to Jabiim first, then-"

N'oenar stopped paying attention. As the women's conversation moved on to family gossip and small talk, he backed away from the crack in the door and sat on the edge of the bed. He'd been right. What help could he be? Who needed an irritating little brother trailing along after them?

His thoughts were in turmoil, like waves rising and breaking before reaching shore. It was all too much – why him, indeed? Why? What kind of key could he be? What use? There were so many others, wise, strong, experienced. He knew he was grasping and flailing, and closed his eyes to look inward, to seek that meditative state.

Deep, cleansing breaths. Deep. Serenity. Peace. Calm. His Master's voice sounded in his mind, a memory that felt all too real. The waves of his emotions tried to dip back down at the memory of a man who fell before him, but the memory of that voice kept him on the surface.

_There is no emotion; there is peace. There is no passion; there is serenity. _

Peace. Wisdom.

After many minutes he stood, calm once more, and walked to the door. Ayliana and Lysira both looked up when he entered the small sitting room.

"Sound sleeper, you are. It's mid-afternoon. I'd lecture for spending so many hours sleeping, but I'd say you've earned a bit of a rest."

He smiled awkwardly and sat, unsure how to respond. "I- thank you." That seemed to be good enough; Lysira smiled and patted his hand.

"No thanks needed. I've gathered quite a bit of debt to your friend here – she's caught a number of thieves and such that used to frequent my business."

"Oh."

"And that's become a bit of a problem, now," Ayliana said with a sigh. "N'oenar, I want to do it, but I can't. I'm too recognizable like this-"

"Like this?"

She frowned at his interruption. "Yes. Like this. Jedi clothes, my hair, my face. Too many people have seen me-"

"Or been arrested by her."

"Right. Anyway, you'll have to do the first trip into the city. We need new clothes, and information. If you can find anything out. Look for Jedi, if you can. But don't ask questions." He lifted an eyebrow. Surely she didn't think he was _that_ thick? "It'll go better when we can both go-"

"But I thought you were too recognizable?"

"I am. Like this. But with Nubian makeup…"

"Like the Queen of Naboo?" He shook his head. "That'll make you stand out even more than-"

Lysira laughed. "He really hasn't been out much, has he?" Ayliana gave him a small smile. "It's the rage, young man. A good number of young ladies are doing themselves up like they're Nubian royalty. More than a little ridiculous, if you ask me, but it's definitely a style. Too many know my thoughts on it, though, so I can't gather it for her. Would look suspicious."

"Oh." Cosmetics and clothes. His first trip into the undercity alone, and he would be looking for cosmetics and clothes? "Won't it look a little suspicious for a young man to go shopping for it?"

Lysira grinned toothily. "You're getting them for your girlfriend. Her birthday."

N'oenar gaped. "My… girlfriend? I…"

"He'll never pull that one off, Lysira. Better make it his sister."

"Sister! Yes, that… that works. I can do that. Just tell me where to go." He was too grateful for the idea to protest the small smirk she sent him, or the wider grin from Lysira.

An hour later, he stood outside of Lysira's Lair, a number of credits in one pocket and his lightsaber hanging well-hidden under cloak and tunic. Lysira had tried to talk him into leaving it, but he'd refused and, unsurprisingly, Ayliana had agreed. She also remembered their saber training, and the words that were drilled into them over and over again. _That weapon is your life._

He hoped fervently that he wouldn't need it.

The two merchants that Lysira had suggested were quick and efficient, if not very polite. Then again, he was too afraid of saying the wrong thing to utter more than a simple identification of the items he needed. Perhaps he sounded short, but it seemed to fit the atmosphere of the area. _Less is more, N'oenar. Explain too much and you'll look suspicious. You don't need anyone looking at you too closely._

He kept his ears open, but there was little gossip to be had in those shops. Customers were sparse and the proprietors were alone at their counters, with no fellow workers to chat to about current events. So it was a wasted effort, which frustrated him. He couldn't stop from going through mental lists of the other Padawans, marking off those he knew had been in the temple. Some he'd seen fall, others he knew were gone, and still others he wasn't certain about. He hoped some had escaped, or had left the temple before the attack and were even now hiding in the city.

Or well away from it. His instincts continued to scream at him that they needed to leave the planet, but Ayliana was adamant. They had to try to find other survivors. Maybe if he found some more information, an exodus of escaped Jedi on a transport or some such thing, she'd be more open to leaving. Nodding to himself, he decided to stop in one or two of the clubs he'd passed on the way to the cosmetics merchant.

He kept his face hidden as he walked down the street. Hovercars zoomed overhead, the sounds of their engines acting as background music to the shouts and activity on the street. He'd had to hold himself back from assisting two robbery victims already; only the knowledge of his final orders from a Master Jedi kept him from lighting his saber and taking justice. _Hide. **Live**_. Following those orders was harder than he'd thought it would be.

As he turned the corner, a large man came barreling towards him and he stepped aside just in time, almost falling onto a pile of rags that sat next to the doorway of a small merchant. He stayed there for a few heartbeats, smiling grimly when his intuition proved correct; another man came tearing along behind the first, yelling in some unknown language.

He'd never get used to this.

With a sigh, he started to continue on his way when a skeletal hand shot out and grabbed his arm. Automatically, he reached for his lightsaber before he remembered himself. Broad daylight. Busy street. His eyes followed the bony hand and arm, widening when he saw that they were connected to what he had thought was just a pile of rags. Within the pile – they were clothes, he realized - sat an old woman with milky white eyes. She was mumbling something, something that she seemed to think very important to judge by the urgent yanking on his arm. Detecting no aggression or malice from her, he moved closer.

At first her words were a jumble of odds and ends, not even a thread of sense stringing the sentences together. He frowned, wondering how best to extricate himself, when her incoherent mumblings melted into one clear statement.

"Faith! Your skills will accomplish what the force of many cannot."

He gasped and stepped back. "What do you mean?"

But she was lost once more in her madness. "They fly free, but land on the blue tree and then they'll see… then they'll see… cages spring around them. Cages of silver, silver shining in the suns and glowing under the stars. They're trapped, trapped, the key they need to get out. The _key_," she insisted, grabbing his arm once more.

"Um. Right, the key. I'll… help them with that, then."

"You help? You'll help. Yes, yes, your skills will accomplish what the force of many cannot. The key, open the cages. The birds should sing free." Then, thankfully, the old woman let go of his arm and slumped back against the wall.

Sound asleep.

He stared at her for a few more moments before shaking his head and walking away. Thoughtfully, he rubbed his arm where he could still feel the marks of her fingers. The old woman had had a surprisingly strong grip. Was this type of thing common when one walked about the city? He ran over the many stories he'd been told, but couldn't remember any even remotely similar.

_Just lucky, I guess._

* * *

That thought came back to him a couple of hours later as he lay on his back, cool stone under him. This time, however, the thought was a bit more sarcastic. 

"You've got more to say, do you? You Jedi-lovers, wearing those rags everywhere like they're something to be proud of!"

He shook his head blearily, fingering his cheek where the man's blow had fallen. The skin was split, but it didn't feel like anything was broken.

Yet.

"All right, break it up," a loud voice called out. "You're drunk, Sneelis. Leave the kid alone. He just didn't have the time to buy new rags. Give him a break."

Someone helped him to his feet and he nodded his thanks, remembering at the last minute to be sure his tunic still covered the handle of his lightsaber. While the clothes could be explained away, he somehow thought _that_ wouldn't be so simple.

"I just bought more," he said, his voice cracking slightly. "New clothes. See?" He held up the bag from the clothing merchant, not noticing the young woman in the corner shaking her head at him until after it was too late. Hurriedly he secreted the bag back under his cloak, breathing a sigh of relief when the man – Sneelis – nodded.

"Right, then. Sorry about that, kid."

He didn't think he'd ever heard a more insincere apology, but he accepted it with a small bow nonetheless. Not wishing to stay around and try his luck any longer, he waited until attention was off of him and then left.

He sighed heavily as he walked down the street. At first his pace was slow and steady but when he began to feel _something_ crawling along his senses he lengthened his stride. It wasn't far to Lysira's. Not far at all. The street was crowded. If his luck held out-

He sensed the blow a split second before it landed. Whirling around, his reflexes quick from years of training, he was able to catch the blow on the thick of his shoulder rather than his skull. The pain lanced through him and he gasped even as he silently thanked the Force. If that had hit his skull…

Turning swiftly, he grabbed the assailant's arm and twisted hard, grunting with the effort. The man was strong, his muscles thick from activity – he had a good idea just what kind of activity – and even with the surprise of his reversal the man was able to pull loose.

He cursed and twisted to the side, feeling the wind from the man's swing against his cheek. A swift kick to the knee brought a gratifying grunt to his ears, and he reared back to deliver another blow when a huge hand wrapped around his throat.

_That was a mistake._

He pushed down the panic as he was shoved backwards, his head slamming against the hard wall, thick fingers pressing hard against his windpipe.

"Credits. I _might_ let you live."

Somehow, N'oenar doubted that. His mind cast around for a solution, and a quick one – small black and red spots were forming in his vision and he knew it was only a matter of time before he blacked out. Only one solution came to his mind, and it was the one solution he couldn't use. Couldn't… maybe…

Ironic. His final orders… _Hide. **Live**_. To do one, he'd have to disobey the other. His awareness centered on the handle of his lightsaber, the knowledge of escape looming larger in his mind. To live, he had to reveal himself. How long would he live then? To hide, he had to die.

It was a beautiful irony.

He scrabbled at the fingers, trying to find some purchase. Just when he thought there was no other option but to draw his saber, the fingers slid from around his neck. He watched, coughing and gasping, as the man fell heavily to the ground, a small pool of red already forming beneath his body.

A hand supported him as he coughed, waiting until he was steady on his feet before withdrawing. He was still rubbing his throat when a woman spoke.

"Shouldn't have flashed that bag around. That just tells them you have credits to spend."

He tore his eyes from the man's body and looked at his savior for the first time. It was the young woman from the club.

"Thanks, I um… I- I couldn't-" His throat was uncomfortably raspy, and he was relieved when she interrupted.

"It's always best to carry an _extra_ weapon. One you can use." His eyes shot to her face in a panic and she lifted an eyebrow. "Yeah, I saw it. Better keep it covered with some cloth. Wrap it around where the metal is. I just caught the shine for a second after Sneelis leveled you, but that's plenty long enough for someone who knows what they're looking at."

"Oh." He cleared his throat. "Um. Thanks. I'll… I'll do that."

She wiped the long knife off on her cloak before sheathing it with a casual motion. He stared. Would he ever feel so commonplace about killing a person? He hoped not, but at the same time... "See to it. We've lost enough of you already."

And then she was gone.

* * *

The story of the attack didn't seem to surprise Ayliana or Lysira in the least. As he cleaned the cut on his cheek, he filled them both in on what he'd overheard, which wasn't much. Certainly not enough to convince Ayliana that there weren't any survivors left on Coruscant. 

"A lot of people are talking," he said, his eyes flicking to Ayliana briefly, "about Anakin Skywalker. Wondering if he made it out."

"Oh, I do hope so! That poor young man… a slave, and now a hero, he is. A hero." Lysira's eyes were shining with unshed tears.

He swallowed and looked at Ayliana. Their gazes locked for a moment and then, with a minute shake of her head, she turned away.

With a sigh, he turned back to Lysira. "A hero. The Hero with No Fear. I'm…" He paused to clear his throat, hoping Lysira took it for grief. "If anyone could have survived it, he would."


	4. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** No beard, no ranch, no huge bank account... yep. Definitely not George Lucas. Star Wars is his, I'm just playing with his toys.

**Note**: Thanks to Rilla for her beta services!

**Severing the Past**

**Wendynat**

Chapter 3  
-----------

N'oenar gazed into the mirror, turning his cheek to the light and frowning. He'd likely have a light scar, despite the work the bacta had done in repairing his skin. A reminder to be more cautious. Taking a deep breath, his gaze dropped down to his neck, where vivid finger-shaped bruises had formed. They would disappear, but he'd feel the pressure in his mind for as long as it took to remind his of his near failure. He knew just how lucky he'd been that the woman had appeared… the Force had been with him, that night.

Ayliana was still down in the common room, listening to rumors and hoping to hear some whisper of other surviving Jedi in the undercity. He had the sinking feeling that they were the only ones still lingering on Coruscant, but she wouldn't listen to his protests. Or Lysira's advice. Determined, she just shook her head and repeated her current mantra: _We have to try._ He'd kept trying, until finally Lysira took him aside. The memory of their conversation came without bidding, his perfect recall once again seeming a burden rather than a gift.

_The windowed door that led to the kitchens swung shut lightly, obscuring them from the common room while still allowing them to see out. It was some trick of the glass; he'd seen it before. But at that moment, he had no desire to look out, his frustration over Ayliana's stubbornness still strong. _

"She'll decide on her own, and not before."

He shook his head irritably. "Any Jedi with a mind will have left by now-"

"She has to save people. She wants to save them all." Lysira's voice was distant, her eyes on where Ayliana sat. He followed her gaze and watched as his fellow Padawan blinked rapidly, twisting a napkin in one tight fist.

And he felt shame.

That same feeling of shame overcame him again as he sat in his room hours later, remembering. _She has to save people._ _He_ should have the same need. Why didn't he? What was wrong with him? He wanted to, but at the same time…

_You're not a Jedi. _

Hide. **Live**

Rubbing his face, he leaned on the small dressing table and regarded the silvery handle of his lightsaber. He'd always admired the sleek shine of metal – so much so that he'd fashioned his saber with more durasteel on the surface than gripping material. Metal that he would now have to cover, at least while on Coruscant.

With a sigh, he picked up the discarded dark tunic and began to tear it into strips, using his saber to cut when the fabric protested. The methodical movements were hypnotic and his mind relaxed as he worked, tearing the tunic fingerswidth by fingerswidth into strips of cloth. It was almost… therapeutic.

Until he tore through the pocket and an object fell out. He bent slowly to pick it up, knowing immediately what it was.

He sat long into the night, head bowed, holding his Padawan braid in his hand.

---

Finally, sleep came to him. But not rest. Vivid dreams wracked his mind, vivid memory interlaced with fantasy wrought from his mind's imagination.

Or so he assumed.

_He walked the corridors of the Jedi Temple, his Padawan braid tickling his neck. The corridors were empty but, as was the way of dreams, he didn't find this odd. _

Suddenly he found himself in a room, watching his Master pore over one of the ancient texts. They were odd pieces, words painted on fabric – sometimes faded in places but surprisingly well-preserved, considering the age. Quite different from the modern datapads and computer archives.

Master Dannew looked up and beckoned him closer. "Ice gives way to flame… look, N'oenar. And remember."

"I don't understand… of course ice gives way to flame-" He bent down, staring at the text, but he couldn't make out the words.

"Emotion. Passion. It is what must be." Master Dannew bowed his head, and N'oenar felt a wave of fear. "The great darkness approaches. The edge of the cloud is over you now, but it will become darker. The lights will show brightly from within, my Padawan. Very brightly. This is both evil and good. You must find a way to dim the light, if you wish to fulfill your destiny."

"Master Dannew, are you… are you feeling all right?"

"The great darkness approaches." Standing, Master Dannew held out his hand, the fist closed. "My Padawan you remain. Knowledge is precious, all knowledge. Here."

N'oenar looked down at the text, still unable to see the words clearly, then looked back at his Master and reached out to take the object from him. His breath caught.

It was his Jedi braid.

"Ice gives way before flame. Do you what must."

"Master Dannew-"

"Hide. **Live**."

---

The next day he was rather quiet, his mind constantly replaying the dream conversation with his Master. His former Master. Some of it he recognized as memory: the text, some of the things his Master had said, the dim chamber where the ancient works were kept. But the rest… he shook his head. His mind was using reality to create fiction, that was all. With an effort, he brought his attention back to the task at hand when Ayliana rose from the table, the package of cosmetics in her hand.

Lysira had given them advice that morning on which establishments to try. Ayliana listened intently, nodding at some and arguing about others. At some point he had tuned them out; he didn't recognize the names of the places they mentioned, and there was little he could add to the conversation.

"How will she know how to put that stuff on? Jedi don't wear makeup." He knew his voice was slightly sullen, but he couldn't help it. So much had happened, had changed, and this was just one more change.

Lysira winked at him. "Kylia will help her if she needs it." She sighed then, her face twisting oddly. He wondered if it was the subject of her daughter or the matter of the Nubian face paints that had prompted the irritated expression. He'd heard the two fighting earlier that day. It was a strange thing to witness – he couldn't imagine arguing with his Master the way Kylia had, but from the reactions of the others present it seemed to be a common occurrence.

"I hope you find some of the Jedi," she said. "Then you can get off this planet. Kylia's leaving soon, back to Jabiim. You could go with her…"

He nodded uncertainly, adjusting his lightsaber again. The strips of cloth covered the metal, but he didn't want to risk it being seen. Lysira's sharp eyes saw him and she stood, moving to a cabinet at the far side of the room. After rummaging in it for a minute, she returned to the table and held out a knife, hilt-first.

And it wasn't a knife meant for cutlery.

"Here. You'd best carry this, also." The blade was thin but wickedly serrated, shining dully in the low light as he took it from her. "I'd give you a blaster, but you'd not be quick enough with it to defend yourself in a blaster fight. Best to just dodge the blasts, or deflect them if you must, if it does come to that."

He nodded, understanding the logic in that statement. Pulling out his saber would give them away, perhaps, but it was better than losing a blaster duel; they'd have more chance avoiding the clone troopers than surviving a hole in the chest.

They'd already done it once, after all.

"And, final thing…" Lysira eyed his face critically and then reached behind her, picking up a second tray of face paints.

He backed away. "Hey! What-"

"Oh, come on, now – don't you want to look pretty, too?" Lysira asked, her garishly painted eyes widening. He must have had a horrified look on his face, because she began to laugh – that same loud, booming laugh from before. Thankfully, Ayliana came back into the room then, pausing in the doorway while she took in the scene, the Nubian face paint obscuring her expression.

"Lysira, don't tease him." She had a scolding tone to her voice, but he thought she was smirking slightly. "N'oenar, we've got to cover those bruises on your neck. That'll draw questions. Make people remember you."

"Oh." He relaxed. That made sense. "All right, then."

Lysira, still chuckling, got to work.

A short time later, they left Lysira's Lair. His bruises were successfully covered with some mixture of Lysira's pallet of colors and Ayliana's features were obscured by Nubian face paint. She looked strange, but also beautiful, if he looked at her objectively. Like a porcelain figurine.

Not at all like a Jedi.

"We should go to Zriko's first. He usually has a crowd early in the day, and they're a talkative bunch."

N'oenar, unfamiliar with the typical traffic in the undercity, had no other suggestions. He let his mind wander as they walked, and it came back again and again to his dream from the night before. He'd never had one that vivid before…

Shaking his head, he brought his attention back to his surroundings. They were approaching the street where the crazy old woman had been the day before. With a smile, he turned to Ayliana to share the tale then stopped, noticing that the pile of rags was there – shifted to one side perhaps, but still in the same spot. He felt a moment's hesitation and then shrugged. She would likely just ignore him, just as she ignored the other beings on the street.

But when they came closer to where she sat, the bundle of rags shifted and two pale, clouded eyes stared directly at him.

"Come on, let's go this way." Taking Ayliana's arm, he led her to the other side of the street. It was out of their way, but he hoped she wouldn't argue.

That hope was in vain.

"Why? That's not where we're headed, Zriko's is over there-"

"Just… just do it. Please. That lady-"

"What lady?"

Those eyes continued to follow him as they walked, watched him as he nodded in her direction.

"See that bundle of rags? It's an old woman. She's… odd." N'oenar could only imagine what insane ramblings she'd say in Ayliana's presence.

"Odd? She's just-"

"Ayliana."

"All right," she said simply. He stared at her in surprise for a moment – once she'd started the argument, he'd expected it to continue – and then sighed gratefully. They walked to the opposite corner, and just as they were about to turn it he looked over his shoulder.

Directly into a milky gaze. "_Shroud the light._" He both heard the words and saw them, her lips moving slowly and precisely, as if she wanted to be sure he understood even if her voice didn't carry.

He felt a tug on his arm and he wrenched his eyes away from the intent stare of the old woman. Dazed, he didn't resist as Ayliana pulled him around the corner.

"_What_ was that about? What was she mouthing to you?"

Ayliana must not have heard her. He shook his head. "Something about… I don't know – she's odd, like I said… mad." Ayliana stared at him a moment and he hoped she'd just let it drop. Thankfully, she did.

"Right. Well, let's move on."

Hours later, they were both tired and disheartened. "Ayliana, I don't think we'll find anyone. We should do as Lysira said, and get off the plan-"

"We have to try," she repeated, her voice weary. Glancing at her, he decided not to press the issue. She looked… defeated, somehow. They'd scoured bar and club and diner, listening and watching and feeling more discouraged with every hour. Public opinion seemed mixed, and rumors were running the entire gamut of possibilities: the Jedi had staged a rebellion; they had tried to attack the Senate; no, they had been set up; the Chancellor just wanted power for himself; no, the Chancellor wouldn't do that, those Jedi were always so aloof, it's not surprising they'd try to take over; they were all dead; some had survived; it was all a trick, they were still in the Jedi Temple…

His head spun. How could they believe some of these ideas? What had the Jedi ever done to them? What kind of spin on events was being orchestrated? And by _whom_? Skywalker? But why would he bother? Why would he-

Images from the temple attack returned to him. The Hero with No Fear.

_Why would he, indeed._

Belatedly, he realized Ayliana was speaking to him. "…have to try, to be sure there aren't any in hiding that need help. I can't just leave them to this…"

"Most have probably already left, Ayliana."

"Exactly. And the ones still here will _need_ our help to get off-planet. We have connections that they don't."

He fell silent. Her words were true, he knew that in his head. But his senses were screaming at him to _leave_, to fly far from Coruscant. _Something_ was going to happen. But any time he tried to protest, Ayliana just kept repeating that same phrase. _We have to try._

Well, they were certainly trying. He just wondered how long they'd have to try, before she'd heed his advice and escape this planet. _Hide. **Live.**_ Unable to hold back a frustrated breath, he looked away. "Right. Well, let's not stop, then. How about there – we haven't been in that bar yet."

She squinted and then nodded, setting off just as purposeful as she had the first several places they'd entered. Sighing, he followed a little more slowly. A reluctant younger brother, he would seem to passersby. It fit. They had been posing as brother and sister when necessary, on Ayliana's insistence. She had stated, and he had agreed, that the beings they met in such establishments would be more open to speaking to a single male or female versus a couple. So far, their assumption appeared to be correct. Unfortunately, they hadn't learned anything of value, other than what rumors were being passed around.

Well, he'd also learned that he blushed when young women spoke to him – something that he hadn't experienced before. The female Padawans and Jedi in the temple didn't have that effect on him; they were all just Jedi, not women or men. But here, in the real world, he was all too aware that things had changed for him. That his future paths, once so certain and definite, had changed. And he had no idea where they would lead him.

They eventually made their way to the club that he'd met Sneelis in the evening before.

"This one's a little rough, N'oenar, even in the daytime. You'd better watc-"

"I know," he commented dryly, eyeing the dim interior as the door swung open to let a long-necked being out. It wasn't much different even in the daylight. "This is where I met my friend Sneelis."

"Oh." She looked over at him with a mischievous smile. "Maybe your other friend will be here, also. From what she said… she might know something. And who knows, maybe she likes you enough to tell you."

He felt his cheeks grow hot and he just shook his head, ignoring her light laugh. She'd been quite entertained by his reactions to the young women that spoke to him and, while he was glad to see her having some fun, he wasn't entirely sure he wanted it happening at his own expense.

Once inside, they separated. He remained on alert for faces he recognized from the previous evening, avoiding them whenever possible. Luckily, he hadn't made that large of an impression – his clothes had been more of an attention-grabber, evidently. _Jedi rags_. Reaching into his pocket, he fingered the severed braid. If someone had told him two days ago where he'd be at this moment… he sighed. So many things had changed.

Ayliana was visible at the other end of the bar, talking and laughing with some of the other young women. A number of them wore the Nubian face paint similar to Ayliana's – it was an odd sight.

He placed a drink order and then leaned against the bar, trying to listen to the conversation next to him. But his heart wasn't in it – this was a fool's errand. No one here would know of any Jedi; all they would know was rumor and insult, none of it useful to them.

A voice in his ear startled him. "Nice makeup." Turning, he saw a young woman slide onto the barseat next to him. He recognized her.

His savior.

"Um. Thanks," he muttered, unsure what to say. "I mean, for last night. I-"

"You should leave."

"What? Why? Is Sneeli-"

"No!" She looked around and then leaned towards him, her breath brushing his cheek as she continued, "No, leave the planet. Coruscant isn't safe for you… or that little girlfriend of yours."

"Girlfriend?" He was confused for a split second then remembered Ayliana. "Oh, she's not my girlfriend."

The woman lifted an eyebrow, then smiled and trailed her eyes down to his chest and then back up. "Good."

_Damn._ His cheeks were already growing hot. He wondered if Ayliana was watching and, if she was, just how amusing she found all of this. She was approached in some of the clubs and bars, but somehow she was able to put on some expression, or give off some sense that she wasn't interested. Or maybe it had more to do with her surrounding herself with a pack of giggling women each time; he couldn't imagine even a regular young man being willing to break into _that_ group to flirt with anyone. "Um…"

"You blush easily…" She gave him an expectant look, then chuckled. "This would be easier if I knew your name."

He cleared his throat. "N'oenar. I'm… my name is N'oenar. I didn't catch your-"

"Kerenne Kharr."

"Oh. Well, thanks again, I-"

"Why are you still here? You and your…"

"Sister."

"Sister. You and your sister aren't safe in Coruscant, even in the undercity. People talk." She signaled the bartender and ordered a drink before turning back to him. "Word will spread, no matter how careful you are. If you think that," she murmured, nodding to his neck, "was bad…"

He nodded, looking away. "I know. I've tried to convince her, but my sister insists that we stay until… until we find more of our family."

Silence answered him and after a few moments he turned to see her frowning into her cup. She seemed to be weighing something in her mind. Finally, she spoke. "I may have knowledge of where your… family… might be. Well, one of them, at least."

"You do?" He dared not breathe until she nodded an affirmative.

"No others, just a… an uncle, you might say." An uncle. An older Jedi, then – older than him, at any rate. A Knight, perhaps.

"An uncle. Has my… uncle spoken to you?" He kept his face carefully casual, matching Kerenne's nonchalant expression. Anyone looking on would think they were discussing some innocuous subject – the weather, perhaps.

Or that they were flirting.

She nodded. "Yes. The others of your family… they may be about, but they're smart enough to stay hidden. Or get off this planet."

He sighed. Get off the planet. _Why_ wouldn't Ayliana leave? One Jedi they'd heard tell of since beginning their search. One. Maybe… maybe if they talked to him, brought him with them, that would be enough to fill her desperate need to _save_ someone.

"Will you see him?"

"I see a lot of things." She drained her cup and sat back, regarding him steadily. "I'll tell him to find you."

"Good. Thank you, Kerenne."

She cocked her head and stared at him. He shifted on the barseat, wondering if there was something on his face, or if she was simply trying to put him off-balance. For some reason, women seemed to like that… or he assumed they did, since they kept doing it. Finally, she gave an exasperated sigh. "You're not very good at this, are you?"

"At what?"

A smile touched her lips. "You're kind of cute. Must be why I'm helping you." He felt his cheeks go warm again and cursed inwardly. "And _that_," she said, nodding at his face, "will be drawing attention to you, by the way. Most young men your age don't blush whenever a woman flirts with them. Ones that haven't grown up… isolated, that is. And seems like you may have grown up even more isolated than most."

The warmth in his face changed to pure heat and he wished, fervently, that Ayliana would come and interrupt them. At this point, even Sneelis would be a welcome distraction, especially now that her flirting had made him notice her as something other than just his savior. She looked to be just a few years older than he was, wild dark hair falling just to her shoulders, crooked smile, knowing eyes….

_You're not a Jedi._

"Where are you staying, N'oenar?"

"Is that more flirting?"

She let out a peal of laughter and he smiled uncertainly. "Now you're getting the hang of it. But no, it wasn't. He… your uncle… is on the run; he was spotted the other day, by someone that knew his face – he isn't where you can reach him. When I see him, I want to direct him your way, and to do that I need to know where you and your sister are staying."

"Oh."

"You can trust me, N'oenar."

"I know." He had spoken without thinking, but he knew it for the truth. He sensed no deception at all from her, and he was fairly certain that he would have, after the length of their conversation. Not to mention, she had saved his life. "We're at Lysira's Lair."

She gave him a piercing look, then nodded slowly. "Good choice. I know Lysira well." Turning in her seat, she scanned the room. "Your uncle isn't here, but he may be close. Go back to Lysira's, wait there for word. It shouldn't take me long." And then she was off the seat and away, before he could even say a word.

Quickly, he drained his own cup and headed for the other end of the bar, where Ayliana still stood with that group of girls. She would be ecstatic at the news, he was certain.

It didn't take long to break into the girls' conversation and pull Ayliana aside, though he flushed when he overheard some of their suggestive statements. As expected, Ayliana was excited at the news and all too ready to head back to Lysira's immediately. Her enthusiasm was infectious and he soon forgot his discomfort with Kerenne's conversation and the women's statements as they rushed through the streets.

Kerenne hadn't named the man, and he'd been too flustered by her flirtatious comments to think to ask. N'oenar's mind was steadily going through the ranks, trying to figure out which Knights might have escaped – or avoided - the carnage at the temple. He was so caught up in this contemplation that he didn't notice when they turned the corner where the old woman still sat.

Once again, a thin, bony arm shot out and grabbed him. He jumped, but shook his head at Ayliana when she fingered her knife. She subsided, but hissed, "We've got to move, hurry-"

"Patience! Faith! Ice gives way before flame!"

He stopped trying to pull his arm loose. _Ice gives way before flame_. "Wait, Ayliana… that's… in my dream, last night, Master Dannew, he…" He knew he didn't make any sense, but he hoped Ayliana would just go with his instincts.

"Those beyond will speak, words floating to our ears when open they are. Ice and flame, shroud the light! Shine inward, free the birds, they should fly free!"

"It's just a lot of nonsense, N'oena-"

He shushed her and moved closer to the old woman, wondering absently what had happened to blind her in such a way. "Tell me."

"Nonsense, sense, it is all the same. The great key, the intentions of the wielder – anything is a weapon!" The emaciated hand gripped him with surprising strength, desperate strength. "Shroud the light! Walk the dark but come back, shroud the light but do not extinguish."

"What do you mean, mistress? When you say shroud the light, what does that mean?"

"How do you lead a Bantha?" She began to laugh, the dry cackling sending a chill down his spine. "How… remember… it is the same, it _is_ the same. Shroud the light, open the silver cage, lead the birds to freedom!"

He shook his head. The words made no sense to him and he turned to Ayliana with a questioning look. She shrugged, still staring at the old woman. Then she drew in a breath and he waited for a moment, expecting her to speak, but she didn't. He didn't blame her.

"Ice will give way to flame – to smolder is the key; to blaze is the sin."

He turned back to the old woman and gently pulled against her grip. "Mistress, your words… I cannot-"

She let go of his arm, sinking back into her ragged clothing as she mumbled more broken phrases. "Smolder, smolder… the key… the birds… shroud the light… you have skills that the force of others do not… birds in the blue tree, fly free! A silver cage will close but the key… the key…"

"Come on, N'oenar," Ayliana whispered, pulling him away from the mumbling old woman. He followed blindly, his thoughts on the old woman's words. He would have put them down to madness, to the random mutterings of a diseased mind – to be pitied, but not heeded – had it not been for the first statement.

_Ice makes way before flame._

"Do you think…"

"I don't know what to think," came her terse reply. She looked troubled, and remained silent until they reached Lysira's Lair. Nodding to the bartender, they took a seat in the corner away from the door. They would see everyone who entered from this vantage point.

"I ran into her yesterday, too. She said a lot of really odd things – madness, I thought, but-"

"She shone."

His head snapped towards her. "_Shone?_"

"Just for a moment. When you looked at me, she stared right into my eyes and I saw it. She shone like a beacon, N'oenar. Just an instant, but… she was using the Force, whether she knew it or not."


	5. Chapter 4

As always, it all belongs to George Lucas and many thanks to Rilla for beta'ing.

_Severing the Past_

**WendyNat**

Chapter 4  
-----------  
N'oenar stared at Ayliana in shock, unable to speak as he ran her words through his mind over and over again.

_She shone like a beacon, N'oenar. Just an instant, but… she was using the Force, whether she knew it or not._

"Why didn't I see it?"

She shook her head, staring at the doorway. She was more on edge than he had ever seen her, aside from during the temple attack. "You weren't looking at her then, were you? It's not steady. I've… I've heard other beings talking about her, but I've never spoken to her. No one has."

"I didn't speak to her, she grabbed me and started going on-"

"N'oenar, I asked Lysira about her when I first started working the undercity. According to her, the old woman hasn't spoken in years. Some of the merchants give her food and water, a bit of charity, and she's never even said one word to _them._" Ayliana chewed her lip thoughtfully. "Lysira thought she was mute."

Troubled, he fell silent. _Shroud the light._ Was that so important, that she broke her silence to tell him? And why hadn't she spoken more clearly? Unless it was as clear as her broken mind could make it. "She was using…." He frowned. "You think the Force was speaking through her, don't you?"

"I… I'm not sure."

It was possible. He recalled an entry in the archives dealing with midichlorian levels and training… there were some with just-below-borderline levels, too low for actual Jedi training. Most of the time, if the Force ever manifested itself in someone like that, it would be in the form of a Jedi Mind Trick. Simple things. A young woman somehow persuades her father to buy that new necklace she wants; a young man convinces a merchant to part with speeder components for far less than they're worth. It came in spurts, and the wielder likely hadn't a clue that it was anything other than pure luck, or innate charm.

But he'd never heard of sporadic Force usage like _this_. Words placed into a mouth that many thought was mute? How to tell what was actually Force-spawned and what was just mad nonsense? He voiced this thought aloud and Ayliana just shrugged.

"No way to tell. And none of it made sense, really." Her voice was brusque. She had obviously already dismissed the problem, accustomed as she was to dealing with the here and now, not the foggy future or the questionable past. Her Master had been a great proponent of Jedi attuning their senses to the Living Force.

With a sigh he sat back, rubbing his temples. His own Master had been a great proponent of learning from the past. Much insight could be gained by matching current events to past events, studying them and analyzing different paths. Different possible futures. But what else in history could this be compared to? The Force speaking through an unaware mind? This widespread extermination of Jedi? There was nothing in the archives he had seen that even came close to what had happened over these past few days.

His ruminations were cut short when Ayliana grabbed his arm, bringing his attention to the doorway. "Look! It's your friend-"

He turned to the entrance to see Kerenne Kharr framed by the streetlights that shone through the open door. She paused, eyes scanning the room, then her gaze met his. With a small nod, she moved into the room and was immediately swallowed by the crowd.

"She's coming over here," N'oenar said, frowning. "Alone. Do you think he's hid-"

"We'll soon find out." Ayliana's patience was, at times, rather irritating. But he tamped down his frustration, reminding himself that _she_ was following the Jedi way. _There is no emotion; there is peace._ When was the last time he'd meditated? Normally he worked on it nightly, practicing that separation of mind from consciousness, experiencing the complete relaxation of floating on the Force. But since-

No. He wouldn't follow that path right now.

He should follow Ayliana's example. She was doing what any Jedi would do in this situation – remaining calm, controlling her emotions, practicing patience. He reached a hand into his pocket, fingering the severed braid. Remaining calm. Remaining patient. It's what any Jedi should do.

_You're not a Jedi._.

"Makeup's wearing off a bit," came the dry voice a moment later.

His hand went to his neck, and he immediately felt foolish. Did he think he'd be able to _feel_ if the makeup had worn off? And it wasn't as if the others in Lysira's Lair hadn't seen him the evening before, when he returned. Granted, some of the patrons were new, but the regulars could easily spread the rumor if it was that interesting. "Um. Right. Ayliana, this is Kerenne. Kerenne, my sister Ayliana."

Ayliana sent him a sharp look that he couldn't define, then nodded politely to Kerenne. "Please. Join us."

Kerenne took a seat, her long knife in its thigh sheath knocking against the chair as she slid into it. "I've seen you before. Without the Nubian getup."

Ayliana nodded. "Yes."

They stared at each other in silence for a moment and then, apparently dismissing her, Kerenne turned to him. He was surprised, and a bit flattered – normally, the elder Padawan would be the primary addressee. And he had a feeling that Kerenne knew that quite well. "Your… uncle…" She spared a look at Ayliana then. "Has a… friend. Another one like him. You follow me?"

He nodded impatiently.

"Right. Well, he wants to talk to him, bring him along. But he – his friend - is being watched, so your uncle has to take his time. They won't be here until tomorrow."

"Why don't we just go to them?" Ayliana asked, her eyes narrowed.

"The places involved, I'm recognized. That's a good thing." She cocked her head at Ayliana. "If _you're_ recognized, that's disaster. And if you walk in wearing those Nubian paints, you'll stand out like a shaak in a pack of rancors."

Ayliana nodded calmly, her Jedi mask firmly in place. N'oenar cleared his throat. "So… we just wait here, then? Until they show?"

Kerenne smiled. "Got it in one. I'll come once I hear more, but expect either me or your uncle tomorrow afternoon. If not earlier."

"Thank you, Kerenne."

Kerenne gave Ayliana a short nod, then winked at N'oenar before standing and heading out of the building.

After Kerenne left, they made their way up to the private rooms that Lysira had given them. There was a small sitting area in the middle, and in silent agreement they both took a seat in two of the chairs. Ayliana regarded Kylia's door with a slight frown, then shook her head, relaxing. "She's not in there. We can talk freely."

"What's wrong? You seem… I don't know."

Ayliana shook her head. "I'm not- N'oenar, I'm not sure I trust her. Kerenne."

"But she seems to be speaking the truth."

"Yes, she does. I sensed… not deception, exactly. More that she has some sort of ulterior motive."

Ayliana's senses had been lauded by many at the temple, so he didn't dismiss her comment out of hand. But… "What ulterior motive could she have?"

Again, that sharp look. She seemed to consider something, then shrugged. "I'm not certain. I suppose we'll find out, if it's the will of the Force."

The will of the Force. That wasn't as comforting as it had once been. If this was all the will of the Force, then he couldn't say he was very happy with the Force's plans.

"Right."

She must have heard the undertone in his voice, because she turned to him with a soft look. "N'oenar, keep your faith. It will end in balance."

He didn't answer, and eventually she sighed and left the room.

--

That night, once again, dreams took him. Vivid dreams. Vivid memories.

_He sat before Master Dannew, just after a meditation practice. One that hadn't gone well. He couldn't make his mind stop, couldn't make his thoughts still their constant movement. _

"I'm trying, Master, I'm sorry-"

"No apologies. They help nothing." Master Dannew stared at him, studying him. He squirmed underneath that silent regard, knowing even as he did so that it wasn't the reaction a Jedi would have. "How do you lead a bantha?"

The question was unexpected. "What?"

"A bantha. How do you lead it?" His Master's face was calm, patient. He tried to copy that – outwardly, at least. "More precisely, how do you lead it to where it does not want to go?"

"I… I don't know."

"You can stand behind, and pull until your arms are dragged from their very sockets."

"Master, I don't-"

"Or, you can lead the bantha in the direction it is already treading. Slowly. Flow with its path, then gently guide it in the other direction. A step at a time. One small redirection at a time."

N'oenar bowed his head. "I understand."

"Then let us try again, my bantha. A step at a time."

--

The next day, N'oenar and Ayliana stayed in the sitting area, playing some table games that Kylia produced for them. "It's really a pain, playing this with someone who has complete recall."

He shrugged. "And playing holochess with someone who can sense deception isn't exactly easy, either." She laughed at that, and he joined her. It wasn't that funny, but he was desperate for something, anything, to lighten the mood, and he imagined Ayliana felt the same.

The lighter mood of the day ended soon after.

"You need to see this." Lysira's voice was serious, and N'oenar wondered what could have happened to bring this severity to her face. After a questioning look at Ayliana, they both abandoned the game and headed down to the kitchens, following Lysira.

Then, when they reached the kitchens and saw the HoloNet projector turn on, he wondered no more.

_…and the Jedi rebellion has been foiled_…

Chilled ice flooded his veins as he listened and watched Chancellor Palpatine address the Senate. Lysira dabbed at her eyes; Ayliana clutched the tail of her tunic tightly in her hand, her knuckles white. And he stood, frozen, still, disbelieving. It couldn't be happening… it couldn't…

But it was.

_All remaining Jedi will be hunted down and defeated!_

The cheers were deafening, even through the HoloNet. He sunk into a chair.

An Empire. _The Republic will be reorganized into the first Galactic Empire, for a safe and secure society..._ Safe? Secure? He would have laughed, had the truth not been so horrific.

After the speech was over, they sat in silence. He stared down at his hands. Three days ago – or was it four? – he had never killed. He had never questioned his teachings. He had never doubted the Force. Now… so much had changed. And the changes weren't just with him, but the entire Republic. His world was crumbling around him, and he imagined himself clutching at the bits and pieces, trying to keep it whole…

And failing.

"You saw?" His head shot up when he heard Kerenne's voice. He hadn't even noticed her enter, his mind still replaying the Chancellor's – no, the _Emperor's_ - speech. She was tense, a blaster cocked and set, ready to fire. "You heard?"

_All remaining Jedi will be hunted down and defeated!_

"We heard."

Kerenne squeezed her eyes shut. "He's dead. Your uncle's friend… he was found before your uncle could get to him. Troopers are combing the undercity, they started during the speech. You need to stay out of sight-"

Lysira finally stirred, her skin pale underneath all the paint. "Out of sight… yes. It's for the best. My people know what you are, but they won't speak." She glanced at Kerenne. "Ayliana's been here before. Helped me out a bit, here and there. Some remember her."

"That can't be helped. But if you're sure…" Kerenne let out a breath when Lysira nodded.

"I'm certain. They bear no allegiance to the Chancellor. Or whatever he's calling himself now. They won't speak."

Kerenne looked over at N'oenar. "You can trust Lysira."

"We know," Ayliana answered, a slight edge to her voice that surprised him.

A lifted eyebrow was Kerenne's only response to Ayliana's tone. Again, she turned to N'oenar. "Stay here. Your uncle is coming, just stay hidden until he gets here. I'm going to see what I can find out… that speech…." Kerenne shook her head. "Lysira, you'll watch-"

"Yes. Go, child."

Kerenne frowned at that – he supposed he wasn't the only one who disliked being called 'child' – and then nodded. "Right." Turning on her heel, she strode out of the kitchen, the door clicking shut behind her with a strange finality.

The wait was interminable. Lysira walked in and out, speaking to her droid workers, talking to her daughter Kylia. His mind played and replayed the speech, analyzing it from all angles as his Master had taught him. There had never been such a large-scale move in the history of the Republic… now, the Empire. The First Galactic Empire. Built on lies, deceit. There had been no Jedi Rebellion, of that he was certain. Children, younglings, the old… all had fallen under the blasters of the Empire's clone troopers or the cold blue blade of Anakin Skywalker. That was the great rebellion? That massacre? How the truth had been twisted! It was a sham. It was wrong. It was evil.

It was brilliant.

There would be no one left that knew the truth, if all the Jedi were killed. It was logical. Leave no one to contradict, no one to expose the reality of the situation. He could admit that, were he not so intimately involved, he would admire such a cunning move. Similar things had occurred in other times, though not on this scale, and the political maneuverings had always fascinated him.

He turned to watch the front room through the single-view window, uncomfortably aware of how he'd done the same just two days before when he watched Ayliana after their argument. The shame still ate at him. It still…

A figure in the entranceway of the main room caught his attention. "Ayliana, he's here! It's Toryndo." A smile formed on N'oenar's face as he watched the tall Jedi Knight walk into the common room. He'd always liked Toryndo – the man had a pleasant smile and was unfailingly polite when he visited the library. Toryndo scanned the room and N'oenar remembered that he wouldn't be able to see them through the single-view glass into the kitchen.

He moved to open the door, to call out to him, when a hand on his shoulder stopped him. "Wait… look! The door!"

There were clone troopers at the entrance. Blocking out the light from the doorway. They may as well be droids, for all the emotion they showed as they studied the near-empty room. He remembered it well, that cold, mechanical regard as they cut down Jedi and learners in the temple.

And people thought the _Jedi_ were emotionless?

He saw Toryndo turn. Saw the realization dawn in the Knight's eyes.

_All remaining Jedi will be hunted down and defeated! _

Hide. **Live.**

No! No, not again, not… he couldn't watch another fall again-

His hand was on his saber, the other hand on the door, pushing-

And then he was being pulled back, pulled away from the door, but not pulled away from the sight. He yanked at the restraining arms, grief slicing through him as the clone troopers stepped back. As they leveled their blasters.

"Shh. N'oenar, don't. You can't. _We_ can't…"

"But- I have to try!" He pulled against her again, a token protest, his heart and mind both realizing that it was too late. More troopers filled the doorway. "No," he moaned. He had delayed too long.

Five blasters, then more. There was no warning. Toryndo didn't even try to run; he lit his lightsaber, held it before his face.… Courage. His saber moved, blue light making a glowing trail in the air as he deflected the bolts. Two fell; two white armored bodies fell to the ground, but it was not enough. Weakened as he must be, from grief and fatigue, it could not last. Even more troopers entered; even more bolts came.

It could not last.

A blast to the chest, and then another to the belly, and Toryndo fell. Time slowed for N'oenar as the lightsaber dropped from the Knight's limp fingers… falling for an eternity through air still filled with blaster bolts… blue light filtered through tears leaving a burning glow on N'oenar's retinas.

No!

Ayliana's arms were all that held him up. He stared blindly at the bright glow of the saber. It lay on the floor, inches from the lifeless hand of a fellow Jedi.

_You're not a Jedi._

His throat tight, tears burning his eyes, he choked out, "I could have helped him, Ayliana. You didn't even let me _try_! I could have-"

"Died." Ayliana kept a firm grip on his arm. He tried to hide his face, embarrassed by the weakness of showing tears, of showing emotion, but she gently touched his chin, turning his face to hers. Staring at him. Forcing him to look at her, forcing him to stay with her. He shrunk from the sadness in her eyes. Even Ayliana. Even her. They weren't Jedi. Neither of them were. They weren't-

"You would have died. And that wouldn't have been any help."

_Hide. **Live.**_

"Then why are we here, if not to try-"

"Tomorrow," she said. He was shocked to the core to see tears in her eyes. "Tomorrow, we leave Coruscant."

_There is no emotion; there is peace._

Just not for them.


	6. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer:** No beard, no ranch, no huge bank account... yep. Definitely not George Lucas. Star Wars is his, I'm just playing with his toys.

_Severing the Past_

**WendyNat**

Chapter 5  
-----------

_Tomorrow, we leave Coruscant._

The words resounded in his mind as he was pulled away from the door, to the back of the kitchen, up the stairs to the upper floor where the private rooms were. Doors were closed and locked behind him – he heard the clicks, but only as background noise. In the foreground of his mind, he heard the sound of blasters, the sound of Ayliana's voice as she finally conceded the need to leave this planet. Memory becoming more real than reality.

But was it too late, now? Too late to leave?

He stumbled along drunkenly, still stunned. Rage and grief and a great hollowness grew in him, slow and strong. They had had one small hope: one. To save just one Jedi from the hell this planet had become… and that hope was gone, destroyed in the harsh glow of shrill blaster bolts.

"N'oenar… sit here… come on…"

The words sounded from far away, still just background noise to the memory that played and replayed. He listened and watched, saw Toryndo fall over and again. Courage. The voice of his Master sounded in his mind, the memory sharp and clear, reading from an ancient text. _Courage is rightly considered the foremost of the virtues, for upon it, all others depend._

Perhaps.

And then another voice came to his mind. _Hide. **Live.**_ He bowed his head.

A glass, cool and smooth, was pressed into his hand. A voice ordered him to drink. Mechanically, he obeyed, and then coughed as the harsh liquid burned his throat, searing hot flame down to his belly. He gasped and blinked tears back as he looked up into the kind, sorrowful eyes of Lysira.

"They're gone, I think. Kylia just went to check." She gestured for him to drink more, her dazzling gold and pink fingernails mesmerizing him as he wordlessly obeyed. The second sip wasn't quite as shocking as the first, though it still made him shudder slightly. The taste wasn't anything he'd encountered before – the fermented drinks he'd normally indulged in were sweet, fruit-based… the kind his Master had preferred. Not this amber liquid that tasted of roots and wind and an unyielding sun.

But there was no doubt that it was effective. His mind was clear, the sounds of the present once again masking the sounds of the past in his mind. But he knew they were still there, waiting. He never forgot anything – complete recall. It was a curse.

"Thanks."

Lysira nodded, then straightened and patted down her hair. "A shock, it was. To all of us. I was just coming through the other door-"

"He was so close." Ayliana's voice was strained, and he avoided looking at her.

The door swung open and they all tensed, N'oenar's hand going immediately to his saber until he saw who it was. Kylia's orange hair swung as she pushed the door closed behind her. "Gone, left the street even. I think they've moved on to the next block."

"That makes sense. If they follow the standard procedures…" Ayliana trailed off, and he wondered briefly if she'd ever been involved in a search like that one, but from the other side. But certainly it wouldn't end in murder – an arrest, perhaps. Not a murder. He saw, once again, the glowing blue as it fell from lifeless fingers, and one thought overcame his awareness.

Suddenly he was consumed with the need to know. A slight hope came to him as he dared to ask, "Is his saber still-"

"They took it." Kylia shook her head, her expression savage. "A trophy, I imagine."

N'oenar took another long sip of the drink, not even flinching as it burned its way down his throat. A trophy – if those droids made flesh cared about such things. This was the ultimate treachery. Not even the saber of a fallen comrade. Not one. Dozens fell before them, and not even one saber had been saved as remembrance. Finally, he dared a glance at Ayliana. And immediately wished he hadn't.

She was shaken more than she would ever admit, he could tell. The skin surrounding her lips was white, her face tense. He knew how she felt. They had tried to save someone, and in the process caused their death. It didn't matter that the clone troopers had pulled the blaster triggers – he and Ayliana were at fault. They should have just left Coruscant, not clung to that fool's hope. His instincts had told him… was that what the crazed old woman had meant? The birds flying free? Had she meant that they should fly free, that they should leave? Suddenly he had the urge to speak with her, but he knew it wasn't possible.

A tone sounded then, and Kylia jumped up. "I'll see who it is," she muttered, hair swinging as she quickly left the room. Lysira made to follow her, then subsided, shaking her head.

"That girl is far too reckless. I ought to go with her to Jabiim, but I can't leave the business for that long…"

N'oenar lowered his head, not raising it even when two people entered the room. He could sense that one was Kerenne before she spoke.

"They tracked him here. He was careless."

N'oenar kept his head bowed. No matter what Kerenne said, he would still blame himself. The vision played and replayed, its significance greater than the other deaths that loomed in his mind. This was not the blurred memory of comrades falling in the heat of battle. This was not a loss in the frantic defense of war. This was just death. Murder. Stark and real, with nothing to distract his mind's eye from the reality of what had happened. No confused movements, no recollection of furious activity existed to dull the clarity.

_There is no death; there is the Force._

Part of the Jedi Code. _That_ was why it was so much worse… not just the clarity, but… because they were some of the last. Some of the few that were left. The other Jedi had joined the Force, become one with it.

_You're not a Jedi._

Very few.

Then Ayliana's voice. Strained, but steady. "There have to be others, around the Galaxy-"

He admired her ability to voice hope, still. Admired it and hated it at the same time. But… she had to be right. He raised his head to see Kerenne's nod of agreement, and he wondered at the paleness in her face. Perhaps she had been closer to Toryndo than he'd thought. Her voice, even, sounded tense. "Most have fled. And I know there are others that were already off of Coruscant, not all of them were with clone trooper squads-"

"Right." His throat felt dry, but he was able to speak. That was a step, he supposed.

"Yes. There will be others. Just… just not here." Ayliana's voice was oddly hollow, though her face was composed.

"Not here," Kerenne agreed, looking away. The sitting room was small, but somehow she still found room to pace. His eyes were drawn to the knife sheathed at her thigh, the end of it swinging slightly as she moved around the room, and he remembered the casualness with which she'd killed.

He cleared his throat. "We need… do you know anyone who could get us off planet? If they're searching the undercity, then they must be searching all outgoing-"

"I know someone," she said, cutting him off. "If my other charge doesn't have any objections…" She looked at Lysira, who shook her head. "Right, then. I'll just have to check on some things, then I'll be back. Lysira, you can-"

"I'll talk to them, child. Now go." Lysira sighed as she watched Kerenne stalk out. "This isn't easy for her."

"Not easy? What… where is she going? What other charge?"

"She's a pilot. Her and her partner. They work for hire." She smirked slightly. "They've got plenty of experience helping people leave without detection. They're the best at… what they do."

He shifted in his seat. He tried to imagine the type of passenger she normally carried and it finally hit him. Kerenne was a smuggler. Maybe not of goods, but of beings. They were being helped by a criminal. One glance at Ayliana told him that she knew, but she didn't seem at all surprised.

"It's a good thing this young man is with you, Ayliana. I'm wondering if she'd be so quick to help if he wasn't about."

Ayliana snorted. "Well. I sense that she wants something, but for his sake I hope that's not it."

"You never know, do you?" Lysira winked at him, and as he slowly realized what they were referring to, his cheeks brightened. Which was, from the look of triumph on Lysira's face, the exact reaction she'd been hoping for. "It could be something else, of course. You do know two of her brothers are Jedi."

"No, I didn't know…" He glanced at Ayliana, who also had a blank look on her face. "But she wouldn't have had any contact with them once they went to the Temp-"

"That doesn't matter. It's blood. Family." They just stared at Lysira, and she frowned. "Family. Like that Jedi that was here earlier was to you, I suppose. You didn't really know him now, did you?"

"A little."

"Well. There you have it." He stared at her, confused. Lysira shook her head again. "Those Jedi, keeping families apart, I don't hold with… well. That's neither here nor there, is it? Listen, Kerenne knew her brothers a bit. They were taken to the Temple when they were oh, four or so, I suppose. She's younger than the twins, but she remembers them. And even had they never met… trust me, blood and family matters to most of us. And it definitely matters to that young woman."

"You know a lot about her," Ayliana said carefully.

"Of course I do! I hired her to take Kylia to Jabiim, didn't I? Think I would've done that had it been someone I didn't know anything about?"

He looked at Ayliana and saw that she was as surprised as he was. He cleared his throat. "You… you hired-"

Ayliana spoke over him. "How much _do_ you know about her?"

"I've known her since she was a little one." Lysira chuckled. "Her family's from Jabiim, you see. Came here years ago, when the oldest of the two was taken to the Temple. She's always in some sort of trouble or other, but she's a good person. Good heart."

N'oenar felt as if his head was spinning. What were the chances? And as far as her being a good person… "Good? But, you just told us she transports beings illegally-"

"Illegal," Lysira huffed, scowling. "According to laws made by who? The same man that stood in front of the Senate and claimed he had to kill children because of some strange Jedi plot? You have some trouble with people breaking that man's laws?"

She had a point.

"They – she and her partner – are selective with who they transport. Now, my advice to you is, go with Kylia and Kerenne. Kerenne can get you off planet, and Kylia could use two extra protectors. Kerenne's good, and her partner is, too, but the more the safer. Especially these days."

"Her partner? You said that before – who is her partner?"

"You'll meet him." _Him?_ N'oenar frowned. He wasn't sure about- "Another brother of hers. Oldest one, I think." She took a sip of her drink, her eyes dancing at him over the rim. "Don't worry. No competition there for you, young man."

"I- I don't-" Her smile grew and he just shook his head, deciding to ignore her insinuation. Really, the woman had the oddest ideas. "I just wasn't certain of his stance, but since he's her brother…"

Ayliana nodded. "And two of their younger brothers are Jedi."

"I think it's the best chance you've got to avoid trouble. He'll know who you are, or what you are, that is. No need to hide it – that'd be difficult, on a long trip." Lysira sat back, a satisfied look on her face. "So it's settled. Kylia's leaving tomorrow, headed for Jabiim. With two extra bodyguards, provided Kerenne's brother doesn't object. That's who she went to consult, I imagine."

"I don't know if we ought to stay on Jabiim-" Ayliana began. Lysira waved her hand.

"It's up to the four of you to decide where you go after Jabiim, if you don't just stay there. For my part, I'd suggest you hunker down-"

Ayliana continued as if she hadn't heard. "Naboo. We could go there, they've always been friendly-"

"No." Lysira cut Ayliana off before N'oenar could even open his mouth, and the decisiveness of her tone made him smile. At least some things were predictable.

Ayliana let out a sigh. "You just don't like the Naboo, Lysira. They're-"

"Arrogant. Of course I don't like them! Snooty types, too good for regular folk-"

N'oenar felt the need to speak, then. He'd met a number of Nubian politicians and historians, while with his Master. "All the ones I've met have been very friendly, not at all snoo-"

"To _you_, perhaps. You're Jedi, not regular folk."

He swallowed and looked away, his hand slipping into his pocket to finger his braid. "Maybe."

"We should go to Naboo," Ayliana insisted, ignoring Lysira's scowl. "After Jabiim-"

"No." His voice was strained, he knew, but he spoke nonetheless.

"Why not?" Ayliana's tone was frankly surprised, and when he turned to look at her he almost smiled at the shocked expression she wore.

Almost.

"It's too dangerous." Back on more familiar ground, his voice became steadier.

"Too dangerous? They're great supporters of the Jedi! You don't think they believe-"

"No," he said hastily. "Not… no, I don't think _that_. I'm certain, knowing their political history, that they don't support this Empire idea. Just… think, Ayliana! We can't go there _because_ they're great supporters of the Jedi." Across from him, Lysira was nodding emphatically.

Ayliana stared at him, then pursed her lips together for a moment. "I'm not following."

He knew how much it must have cost her to admit that to a younger Padawan – even one just a couple of years younger. "The Empire…" He took a breath, the memory of Palpatine's speech solid in his mind. "The Empire will be watching Naboo closely, to make sure they're not harboring Jedi. You heard the speech – they won't be able to refuse having Imperial troopers comb their planet to 'keep them safe and secure'. They're largely peaceful, they wouldn't be able to stage a war against the massive number of troops that Palpatine controls. If we travel to a world that's neutral, or better yet, another one that was under Federation rule…"

The light of understanding dawned in Ayliana's eyes. "The Trade Federation – of course! They'd never suspect a Jedi to hide on one of those planets…"

"Exactly."

The new voice surprised him, and he turned to see Kerenne walking into the room with Kylia. "And a world like that is the only one where there might be some Jedi left alive." Kerenne glanced at N'oenar. "The Outer Rim?"

He shrugged. "Or elsewhere, whatever we all decide." Ayliana gave him a searching look, but didn't speak. "Did your… did your brother agree?"

Kerenne let out a breath and sank onto one of the chairs. "Yeah. Zehrid agreed. He didn't have much choice, and there's advantages, besides. It'll be tight-" Her eyes twinkled "-but we'll all fit."

"Not too tight, I hope," Kylia muttered, earning her a cuff on the ear from her mother.

"You'll still have your own sleeping area, princess," Kerenne said dryly. "I've heard you snore, so it's the best all around."

Lysira began to laugh, her laughter growing louder when she caught sight of Kylia's face. The orange-haired young woman had a mock-outraged look, her hands firmly on her hips, her lips quivering to hold back a smile. N'oenar chuckled, finally realizing that they were engaging in the banter more to calm everyone's nerves than by serious intent. Ayliana merely raised an eyebrow.

Lysira patted her daughter's shoulder, then turned to Kerenne. "Do you have time to sit a while and rest, Kerenne? Or do you have to head off to get ready-"

Kerenne shook her head. "It's best if I'm not seen coming and going too much. Zehrid is readying the ship and docking it close by. We'll meet him in the morning, like we'd already planned."

Kylia gave an exaggerated sigh of relief. "Good. That'll give me time to pack everything. And it won't raise eyebrows, since I was already headed off with you then." With a small wave, she went to her room to pack, or so N'oenar assumed.

In unspoken agreement, the others remained in the private sitting room, entertaining themselves by playing various table games. Kerenne and Lysira eventually left to make appearances in the bar, hoping to keep it obvious that the trip was still on despite the recent political upheaval. Ayliana and N'oenar stayed safely behind the locked door, however, and tried to keep their minds from wandering down dark paths.

After losing the third straight game of holochess, N'oenar sat back and shook his head. "No more, you've done enough damage." It was frustrating – he was normally better at keeping his emotions under check, at keeping his intentions hidden, but the events of the day had rent his control asunder. And Ayliana's senses seemed to be sharper than ever.

"You need to work on-"

"I know, Ayliana." He let out a long breath, glancing at the empty room. "Today just isn't the best-"

"I know." She ducked her head, her long brown hair falling forward to obscure her face. "I'm sorry."

He couldn't see her expression, but she sounded… contrite. Clearing his throat, he muttered, "It's all right. You're on edge, too. Just like I am. Like we all are. Kerenne is, even-"

"She is, isn't she?" Ayliana looked up then, glancing at the door. "I wonder if she was closer to Toryndo than she let on?"

Shifting uncomfortably in his chair, he shrugged. _How close could they have been? He was a Jedi._ "Could be. I don't know. Maybe she's just worried about her brothers."

"And us." Ayliana smiled slightly. "Well, you, I ought to say."

He ignored her and stood, walking to the side table and picking up his drink.

"I only meant that she seems to view you as a friend, N'oenar. Lysira is just teasing you, you know."

"I know." He took a long sip and wished for a moment that there was a window in this room. Something to look at other than the four walls and the closed doors. The room he'd been given had a window, but it was high and narrow, meant for light rather than gazing.

"But…" He could hear her clear her throat before continuing. "I'm still not sure… I mean, I don't sense deception still, but there's something she wants from us."

"From us."

"Yes."

"Are you sure you're not just reading things into it, since we found out she's a… since we now know what she does for a living?"

There was silence, and he finally turned to see her sitting with her head bent, one hand slowly rubbing her neck. Her voice was muffled when she eventually answered him. "I don't know anymore. I just don't know."

"Then we'll have to trust." N'oenar reached a hand into his pocket and ran one finger along the coiled braid. _My Padawan, you remain._ "And be mindful of our feelings."

_There is no passion; there is serenity._

* * *

Deep in the night, after hours of anxious restlessness delayed his sleep, his words returned to him in the form of a dream. Once again, a mixture of memory and fantasy and… perhaps more.

_"Be mindful of your feelings," Master Dannew said, turning a page in one of the ancient texts. They were once again in that small, dim room from his memory. _

"I am, Master. But it is difficult…"

"There is no emotion; only peace."

"Yes, Master. It's not-"

Master Dannew sighed and turned another page. "The code broken. Ice will give way to flame. It is what must be." He looked up at N'oenar, his expression serious. "Remember vaapad."

"What?" N'oenar looked at his Master in confusion. "Vaapad? But Master Windu-"

"Remember. Warm your hands by the flame during this long winter's night. But venture too close and you will burn, flesh scorching and blood boiling."

"Master, you aren't making sense-"

"I cannot speak more freely, my Padawan. Remember, and you will unravel the secrets in time." Master Dannew looked at him, then smiled gently. "Confusion surrounds you, but do not fear. Shroud the light, while the pendulum swings to the other side. It will be righted, in time. We can only hope the pendulum does not tip, is not destroyed by the great darkness that approaches."

"What… what can I do to stop that from happening?"

"That battle is for another, Padawan. Your battle is on a smaller scale, but no less important, because the Force does not distinguish by size. Knowledge is precious. Ice will give way to flame, it is necessary, but take care not to burn."

"All… all right."

"Remember how to lead a bantha, my Padawan. Shroud the light-"

"Wait! Wait, someone else said that, someone…" His mind worked feverishly, memory and reality and dream merging into one, and he was suddenly aware_. "An old woman, on the street, she told me that-" _

Master Dannew nodded. "She is wise."

"She's just a crazy-"

"Who isn't?" Master Dannew chuckled, then turned back to the texts, picking up a datapad that lay beside him. "One man's philosophy is another's mad ramblings. Those that can see have often been thought to be… mad."

N'oenar nodded slowly. "I can see that."

"Of course you can."

N'oenar frowned. "She also spoke of… leading a bantha. Just as you did, but-"

A smile touched Master Dannew's lips. "You see many things, but you still do not trust your own sight. You never have, these many years you have been my Padawan, though you see clearly." Then his smile faded, and N'oenar felt a stab of fear at the somber expression on his Master's face. "It's not an easy task, to lead this bantha."

"Master, what-"

"Your destiny is before you, follow the path on which you tread. Once you look down and recognize the path, then you can begin to lead the bantha. Do what you must, to protect that which is most precious. Hide. **Live**_." _

"Yes, Master."

"Now, dream. And see."

Master Dannew faded, and N'oenar faded. His mind, his consciousness, floated in darkness for a time, then he forced himself to relax. The old woman's words came to him, a gossamer thread of sound in his mind: "Those beyond will speak, words floating to our ears when open they are."

Master Dannew had said to dream, and see. He relaxed his mind even further, and let the dreams take him. And he saw_. _

A planet lay before him, dark and wet and pungent. The vision shifted, and he saw Master Yoda, a small figure crouched in a small room. "Hard to see, the Dark Side is." Master Yoda bowed his head. "Failed, I have."

The scene changed, and he was engulfed in heat and wind. A man shouted, pain and anger and a horrible sense of loss threaded through the words: "Then you **are** lost!" He could feel the pain flowing from Obi-Wan Kenobi, and he gasped as the vision widened, as he finally caught sight of the man Master Obi-Wan had cried out to. Anakin Skywalker, surrounded by flame, a wild darkness in his eyes. They raised their sabers, and…

The scene switched yet again, and another dark Jedi stood before him. He did not question how_ he knew the woman's allegiance, he just knew. He watched, unable to move, as she held a red saber to his throat. Then, with a feral laugh, she pulled the blade back – a blade that was now pure silver. But instead of bringing the blade to his flesh she turned it on herself, cutting her own throat with a manic expression on her face. He couldn't move to prevent it, couldn't open his mouth to cry out, couldn't look away to stop the vision of blood pouring from the wound. _

The woman disappeared, thankfully, but before he could relax another vision took its place. Kerenne stood before him, smiling that crooked smile, that knowing smile. Casually, she wiped off her blade, then thrust it back into the thigh sheath – and as she did so, he felt as if she had thrust it into his heart, the sharp pain a shock as it sliced through him.

He woke with a gasp, his breathing heavy and rapid. Lifting a hand to his chest, he was vaguely surprised to feel that it was whole, the skin smooth and unbroken.

A hissed whisper startled him. "Wake up, N'oenar. We need to leave now. They're doing building searches."

"What? Ayliana?" He was still half in the grip of his dream, and it took a moment for the words to sink in. "Oh. Right." He threw off the bedcovers and stood, tossing on a shirt while he looked for his pack. He hadn't much to bring with him, but it would look odd, Kerenne had said, if he carried nothing with him.

"You've been having dreams." She stated it as fact, not question, and he wondered if he'd made some noise – or even spoken - in his sleep.

"Some. Yes."

"Have you had prophetic dreams before, N'oenar?"

"Prophetic?" He shook his head, reluctant to talk about it with her. Particularly after that final image he'd had. His heart beat oddly, an echo of memory in his chest, and he swallowed before continuing. "They're just nightmares. Dreams. Nothing… nothing of significance." He avoided her gaze, moving around the room and picking up things, but he could feel the weight of her eyes on him.

"It seemed like… well, if they were, you wouldn't know, would you?"

He wasn't certain if she was stating fact or asking a question, so he decided not to answer. After a final look around the room, he took a deep breath and turned to her. "All right. I'm ready."

She nodded, and he stared at her for the span of several breaths, the moonlight shining through the window glinting in her hair and turning her skin to pale silver. Any other woman, standing in the same spot, under the same light, might have seemed ethereal. But Ayliana just looked strong, untouchable, resolute, glowing with wisdom. Hope entered him, once again, pushing aside the horror of his dreams. She looked like the Force made flesh. Like a true Jedi.

And he was glad of it.


	7. Chapter 6

First of all - many, many thanks to Rilla and Buttercup for their beta help!

I do so love feedback, even if it's just a note to say you're reading - thanks to everyone who's following the story, lurkers and commenters alike! I truly hope you're enjoying it.

_**Severing the Past**_

**Wendynat**

**Chapter 6  
**

* * *

Lysira peeked out of the window in Kylia's room, shaking her head. "It won't be long now, before the daylight comes. You'd best come back then, after light."

"That makes sense," N'oenar said, adjusting his lightsaber. It was secreted in an inner pocket of his cloak and he hoped it would be quick enough to hand if it were needed. If all went well, it wouldn't be. The memory of a blue glow falling from nerveless fingers overwhelmed him for a moment.

Reaching into a front pocket, he touched the braid that lay hidden within. He felt as if he was moving through a thick fog, his mind weighed down by the events from the day before and occupied by the dreams he'd woken from so recently. Trying to shake out of it, he moved to Lysira's side at the window, staying back a bit to shield himself from sight. The moon was still bright, though it now had a slight reddish cast that he hadn't noticed before. It seemed appropriate, somehow.

"Ayliana ought to be ready soon. If we go out on this side, we'll be hidden from the main paths?"

"That's right. Might be some beings in the alley, but they won't be speaking to a trooper about someone climbing up the walls, you can count on that." With a sigh, she turned to him, the shocking red of her hair glinting like blood in the moonlight. "Such a rush, no time to say a decent farewell-"

"Mother! They're headed this way from Zriko's side." They both turned at the sound of Kylia's voice. She stood in the open doorway, and though N'oenar had expected her to be frightened, instead she seemed excited. "Should be a few more minutes."

"Minutes? Well, then, it's a good thing we're ready now," Ayliana said, pushing past her into the room. Kerenne was right behind her, and N'oenar wondered if the two women had shared words of some sort while he'd gathered his things and waited with Lysira – there were two spots of color high on Kerenne's cheeks, and it didn't appear to be face paints. He'd noticed Kerenne seemed to avoid wearing much makeup, which he decided was rather to his liking.

Frowning, Kerenne continued their conversation, evidently oblivious to the others in the room. "Climb out the window, and then what? We'll just drop into the alley? That's insa-"

Ayliana spoke over her shoulder to the other woman, not bothering to turn her head, and that was so uncharacteristic of her that N'oenar no longer wondered if the two women had shared words – he was certain of it. "_We'll_ climb _up_, not down, then slip into one of the already-searched buildings and head back here when it's safer-"

"After daybreak," N'oenar offered, glancing between his fellow Padawan and Kerenne. The situation was certainly tense enough without the two of them being snappy with one another. Well, not that Ayliana was snappy per se, but she was definitely sounding rather un-Ayliana-like.

"After daybreak, yes," Lysira said, studying the two women in turn. "Now, Kerenne, perhaps you should stay here-"

"Why? They'll need my help-"

"We can handle it, I think." Ayliana's voice was very calm, sounding very much the Jedi. "It's just a precaution, anyway. We've got the false identification that Lysira found for us-"

"And Kerenne, she helped-" Kylia interjected before a quick gesture from her mother silenced her. The smirk on her face hinted that she was quite enjoying the tension in the room.

Ayliana ignored the interruption and continued in that calm voice, "And unless you've learned to scale sheer walls in your years of illega-"

Lysira raised her voice sharply. "Right, that's enough I believe. Kerenne, you're supposed to be here with Kylia. Point of all this is to look natural – they'll just be two other passengers, meeting you here in the morning."

Kerenne's lips tightened, but she nodded reluctantly. "That makes sense."

"Of course it does! I said it," Lysira said, smiling widely. "Now, now, you'll hurt yourself, pursing your mouth like that. Unless you're preparing to kiss someone? He won't be gone that long, dearie, just an hour or more." Kylia's smirk intensified.

"Are you _ever_ serious?" Kerenne snapped. Instantly, Lysira's eyebrows went up.

"You've got enough of_ that_ already. Quite enough of 'being serious' between the three of you, I'd say. I'm just glad Kylia's going along with you to keep things a bit lighter." She reached out a hand to her daughter's head, giving one orange lock a quick tug of affection. N'oenar was reminded of the way his Master would tug at his braid, at times… "Life. Why do it, if you get no enjoyment from it?" Then she turned from her daughter to look at each other the other three in turn, her face serious. "You all know better than most, that even in the darkest hour, there is still a light. Warmth."

N'oenar cocked his head, her words reminding him of his dream. She, as unbelievable as it seemed, had sounded much like Master Dannew, and the comparison surprised him. This garishly painted woman, having something in common with the Master Historian of his memory? The words burst out before he thought to stop them, "You sound like a Jedi."

"From you, I'll take that as a compliment." She reached out and patted him on the cheek, then turned to open the window, the clear panel sliding into the wall with a whisper of sound. "Now, you'd best go. We'll see you after daybreak."

The others watched as they secured their belongings, tightening the straps on their packs one last time in preparation for the climb. "We'll see you all soon," Ayliana said in a low voice before reaching up to catch the window frame. She pulled herself out and up effortlessly.

N'oenar followed her, pulling his heavier form into the window. Balanced on the sill, arms stretched up to grip the crumbling decorative ledge above the window on the outside wall, he could see only the stone in front of him until he looked up. His Force-enhanced sight easily picked out Ayliana's form from the shadows as she waited for him above. She seemed settled, so he paused long enough to duck his head back into the room for a final farewell.

"See you all in a little bit."

Kerenne was the first to respond. "Be careful." She looked about to say more, but then closed her mouth and just gave him that crooked smile. Lysira's hand moved to her shoulder, squeezing gently.

"Yep. Try not to fall or anything." Kylia winked at him, a cheeky grin on her face.

"We will," he promised, eyes still on Kerenne as he leaned back out of the window and reached up. He concentrated, pulling on the Force to guide his fingers to the minute cracks in the outside wall, sensing the small indentations that would allow him purchase. It was simple, really, to flood himself with the Force, to feel it flowing through the wall, through his fingers, into his mind and the air around him, to feel the cracks in the wall, to feel the air thicken and buffet him as he effortlessly made his way up the wall.

He could sense Ayliana, also, and see her with a sight that was not physical; he could feel her determination, her energy, her warmth, could feel the connection made between them, the bond… all of this through the Force. Not for the first time, he wondered how others lived without knowledge of the Force, without feeling that same bond to the world around them? Lysira spoke of family and her disagreement with the Jedi way, but what significance was a mere flesh and blood connection compared to _this_?

A smile crossed his face as he climbed, Ayliana shining before him, her presence in the Force almost a solid light, comforting him.

They climbed silently for a time before reaching the first set of ledges. After they both found their footing on the thin outcropping, Ayliana gestured in the direction of Zriko's and he nodded, holding up six fingers. She understood instantly and began to walk, leading the way. Six buildings up, that would be more than sufficient, and it might even bring him close to the door where the strange old woman made her nest. He'd had the urge to speak with her, ever since his dream the night before last… ever since the decision to leave Coruscant had been made. Perhaps he could make sense of her ramblings… they _had_ to mean something. The Force's will was being done.

The thin ledge on the neighboring building wasn't on the same level, but their Force-enhanced abilities made the jump a simple task. He glanced down into the alleyway from time to time, scanning it for white helmets, but he saw none. Dark shapes milled about, sometimes a voice sounded, but nothing more. It was doubtful that any of the figures could see them, high on the wall, and even if they could, he trusted Lysira's judgment. They weren't going to raise an alarm.

And yet, they both felt a growing sense of urgency and began to move more quickly, running lightly along the thin, crumbling edge of the stone and mortar, keeping their concentration, their bond through the Force, close at hand. Two buildings crossed, then three… four… he looked down for a moment, startled when he noticed that the pavement of the alleyway was now a lighter shade of gray.

Daylight was breaking.

"Hurry," he murmured, knowing that the low sound would still reach Ayliana through the Force. It wouldn't do to be caught on the wall – there was very little way to explain _that_, particularly since it was a maneuver that he doubted any but a seasoned thief or a Force-sensitive person could perform. Right now, he couldn't say which would be more hated.

Their feet moved faster, lighter than air, steady – it was exhilarating, using the Force like this. Ayliana might be used to the more physical purposes to which the Force could be placed, but he was more familiar with the mental side, analyzing thought and feeling from words written ages before, deciphering intent of political works, looking to the past for patterns that would be repeated in the future. Art and culture and history, a wealth of knowledge slept in his memory. Knowledge worth so much to him at one time but now, in the harsh reality of survival, it was his training with a saber, with balance and perception and anticipation, that aided him the most.

Before him, Ayliana slowed.

"What-"

"Daybreak, we need to get inside. This should be far enough," she whispered, her voice but a breath.

"Right." He looked up, seeing a window directly above them. He closed his eyes and touched the stone with both hands, letting the awareness of the Force flow from him through the stone to the room beyond. "I don't sense anyone… it seems empty…"

Ayliana nodded in agreement, lifting her cheek from the wall. She'd plastered herself against it, the contact apparently assisting her because she said with certainty, "It's empty." Then she leapt up and caught the sill of the window, pulling herself up with ease. Fingers searched along the edge, her face tight with concentration, and he heard a distinct 'snick' as she found the mechanism and persuaded it to open. The pane slid into the wall and she disappeared into the room before he even had a chance to grasp the edge of the sill.

The metal sill was cracked in one spot and he winced as he pulled himself up and through the opening, dropping silently to the floor. He glanced down at his hand, a thin trail of blood showing dark in the dim light. Absently, he rubbed it off with the inner edge of his cloak before closing the window.

"There's a corridor through that door," Ayliana breathed, gesturing to the first of three doors, the only one of the three that stood cracked open slightly. It appeared that they had landed in a small sitting room of some sort. With a sharp nod, he followed her out of the room.

The corridor was long and silent, and dark – far from the illumination of moon or even dim morning light. Their connection with the Force aided them once more as they crept through the halls, down stairs, over and again.

Just when he thought they would make it down to the first level without being detected, an angry voice cut through the silence. "And just who are you? You're not more of those troopers, I told you there aren't of those Jedi here." He blinked as a light was switched on, his pupils taking time to adjust to the brighter surroundings. The corridor was slightly dusty, with a number of doors leading to what he assumed were rooms for rent. And before them stood a short, rather angry man. N'oenar assumed he must be the proprietor.

Ayliana waved her hand casually. "We've been here all night. We already paid."

The man blinked. "You've been here all night. Paid."

N'oenar mimicked the gesture, twisting the Force, bending it, a trick of the mind. Ayliana was much more skilled at this than he was, but any little bit… "That's right. All night. Slept early, and now we're leaving early." For something this simple, it wasn't difficult to trick the man's perceptions – particularly since he didn't seem to be exactly strong-minded.

The man nodded. "All night, you were! And leaving early. You can find your way down, then, the door's not sealed from this side."

"Thank you. We're sorry to have woken you," Ayliana said with a small wave before they headed down to the street level. They walked to the windowed door in silence, checking through the clear pane – more of the one-way glass that Lysira had used - to survey the street. It stood out from the other store fronts just enough that he could see the neighboring building, and he craned his neck to get a better look, wondering… would she be there? Or did she leave in the cover of darkness, heading to some unknown lair? _She is wise…. Those that can see have often been thought to be… mad._.

With a jolt, he realized she was there, sitting next to the doorway of the neighboring shop. Just as his head jerked with recognition, her head lifted from the rags, and turned….

For a brief moment, the old woman shone… her presence in the Force a star, pulling him in. He was halfway to her before he realized he had pushed open the door and left the building, his feet moving without direct orders to do so, his ears ignoring Ayliana's hissed order to stop. It was the Force's will. He knew this.

"Obey your final orders, you are the key, that was seen. Shroud the light and you will live on!" He tilted his head and moved closer, pulling on the Force just a tiny bit, feeling the connection between the old woman and himself, strengthening it; he had to understand, this was his last chance. "Free the birds! Find the blue tree, the silver cage – the birds are a treasure that you know not."

"A treasure? What are the birds, mistress? Can you tell me?" He felt Ayliana as she approached, felt as she stopped behind him, but he didn't turn. All of his attention was on the small huddled form before him. "Please."

The light continued to shine – now that he knew it was there, now that he himself was bound together with her Force, he could see it clearly though his senses had never been as attuned as Ayliana's. He wondered just how much they were both showing now, in the Force, wondered just how bright it was?

An odd bit of sanity crossed the old woman's face, and she blinked blind eyes. "Obey your orders. It can be a weapon, or not – intent is the key. The key."

"The key?"

"To be saved it must be broken. You must have the courage to break it."

He felt an urgency from Ayliana, almost frantic, but he dared not look away, dared not break the connection he shared – for just this moment – with the old woman. "To break what?"

"You have skills will accomplish what the force of others cannot. Learn. Lead the bantha, lead it, and you can save the birds. They will shine, the birds will. Shine…. Their blood will sing. But first, ice will give way before flame. Follow your orders, shroud the light, and you can save them."

It still made no sense, but perhaps on further study-

Claw-like fingers gripped his arm, interrupting his thoughts. "Smolder, do not blaze! In the great flame, all things are destroyed! Remember!"

The sound of footsteps came to his ears, but he

"N'oenar!" Ayliana's hiss caught his attention and he looked up, frozen by the sight of two clone troopers walking along the pavement, approaching their corner. Stepping back, he tried to pull his arm away, but the old woman's grip was insistent. "N'oenar, we've got to go _now_-"

He considered yanking his arm away, but the old woman might not let go and somehow he thought that dragging an elderly woman down the sidewalk just might attract the troopers' attention… and for now, they seemed to be ignoring them. Beside him, Ayliana was tense, but he could feel her relax slightly.

If only their luck would hold. The troopers were passing by, not paying them any-

"Faith!" the old woman shrieked at that moment. N'oenar froze, his head whipping up. As he'd feared, the troopers paused. Turned. And then they approached. Remembering that they had identification, that nothing about them was suspicious, he tried to remain calm. It took some concentration, but he kept his expression even – summoning what he hoped was and amused but mildly irritated look. It was difficult. Dread and a terrible anger fought within him at the sight of those uniforms.

"Is there some trouble?" The voice sounded human, but he knew it wasn't – not really. No true emotion dwelt within that droid built from flesh. In fact, the human sound of the voice was far more disturbing than the mechanical tones of a Trade Federation battle droid. At least you could be certain where _they_ stood.

"No, no, we're fine, we were just-"

"To save it, you must break it!" The woman's urgency was painful to him, her emotions clear and tangible, battering at him through their Force connection. She must have felt it like a physical knot, tied tight around her temples, this urgent need to communicate… was it always like that, for her? He tried to ease the way for her, tried to-

"Is this woman bothering you?"

He shook his head, almost smiling at the situation – the troopers, undoubtedly searching for Jedi, stood next to two who were so bound in the Force that their combined energy would be seen by any Force user nearby. They shone like a sun, and the troopers stood right next to them, completely unaware.

_There is no ignorance; there is knowledge._

"No, no." Turning to the trooper, his connection with the Force allowing him to ignore the tendril of anger that reached for him at the sight of that all-too-familiar helmet, he shrugged casually. "She's here all the time, I was just trying to give her a bit of charity, and…"

And what?

"And she seems to have taken a fancy to him," Ayliana said, stepping in. She laughed lightly, sounding for all the world like one of those giggly young women they'd run into while searching the undercity. "I'd be jealous but… you know."

And then she topped off her performance with a flip of her hair and a saucy wink.

He stared at her, a bit disconcerted by the sudden transformation as she answered the clone trooper's other questions. Still maintaining the connection with the Force, still maintaining his bond with the old woman, he heard the stories clearly as they were spun. They were just a young couple waiting for their friend who was going back to her home planet to visit… they'd always been curious about the old woman…. Ayliana gave just the right amount of information - not too much, not too little - and she sounded so natural he had to wonder how she'd learned to lie so well.

The lies evidently worked; perhaps there was just enough of the truth in them to avoid raising an alarm. Or perhaps they simply didn't look like Jedi. The identification that Lysira and Kerenne had procured for them the day before was asked for and shown, and finally the troopers nodded and went on their way.

"Birds… the key…"

Concentrating, he tried to unravel the nonsensical twisting of her mind. Then, with a sigh, he reluctantly pulled away from the old woman's light, releasing the connection, letting the Force that flowed through him at all times return to its normal paths. He had all she could give him, all she could communicate – the Force worked in mysterious ways, and giving words to incoherent minds was evidently one of those ways.

He wondered, for a brief moment, if giving words to dreams was another way the Force worked? "They're gone. N'oenar, we should get Kylia, before more-"

"Listen to the Master, listen to yourself, heart and mind," the old woman's whisper was a tiny thread, and her hand slid weakly from his arm. "Faith."

He could feel Ayliana's impatience and nodded to her before turning back to the old woman. "Thank you, mistress."

"_Hide. **Live**_."

He sucked in his breath, shock racing through him. How did she know? How did… he opened his mouth to ask the question, but she settled back, muttering broken phrases, her light fading.

"Come on, N'oenar. We don't have time!"

Nodding, he allowed himself to be led away.

--

"I'd hoped to give you two a proper send-off, but this will have to do." Idly, N'oenar wondered just what constituted a "proper" send-off on Jabiim. Because he didn't think he'd be able to carry more of a send-off than this.

Beside him, Ayliana was arguing quietly with Lysira and he couldn't help but overhear. "But it's far too much, Lysira, you can't-"

"You'll need credits for the next voyage, and whatever else might come. Two young people, out on their own-"

"Thank you, Lysira. But really, this is-"

"I pay my debts!" Lysira stated, pudgy arms crossing her chest. And, with that gesture, he knew the argument had been won.

He knew that Ayliana had realized the same thing. She pocketed the large pouch, filled with credits and other forms of currency, and smiled. "It's far more than anything your debt could be, Lysira. But I know better than to keep arguing with you."

"Just be careful, the both of you." Lysira included N'oenar in her gaze. "And watch Kylia, if you will. She's far too bold."

That comment brought an immediate protest from the person in question. "I am not!"

"You _are_, and I've got no idea where she could get _that_ from," Kerenne said dryly, coming up behind Lysira with yet another trunk to place on the pile. "Last one. It's just a good thing I brought this repulsor lift-"

"Oh, you just like to complain, you do." Lysira smiled. "You be careful, too. You and that brother of yours. I still don't know how he's kept from having some woman or other tie him in one spot-"

"I'm not really interested in my brother's love life, but thanks for the visual, Lysira."

Lysira laughed and patted her on the cheek. "Anytime, dear." Then she turned to Kylia, pulling her into a close embrace. The orange-haired woman leaned her head down to touch her mother's forehead. "Daughter mine, run safe and free, and return." The words had an air of formality to them, and his suspicions were proved correct when Kylia responded.

"Mother mine, remain safe and secure, until my return."

The moment felt like such a private one that he looked away, reluctant to intrude. When he turned, he caught sight of Kerenne, who was watching the two with a small smile. He had to admit the scene was rather beautiful, a sentiment of family that he'd never been able to completely grasp but had seen depicted over and again in art and literature from various cultures. And while it may be a common occurrence on their home planet, to judge by Kerenne's reaction, it wasn't something he was used to witnessing. Apparently just as unwilling to intrude on the personal scene, Ayliana had busied herself with rearranging her pack and other belongings. He mimicked her, checking his pockets, pausing when he felt his Padawan braid.

Two kisses on each cheek, a couple of more whispered words, and then Kylia backed away.

"Go, all of you, and run safe and free."

They took another path to where the ship was docked, far from the corner where the old woman sat. The walk was largely silent, all of them feeling the tension from the early morning seeping back into them. The ship became a safe haven in N'oenar's mind, and a small part of him mourned the realization that his home since birth would never again have that same protected feel.

Soon enough they reached the ship – it was larger than he'd expected, though an older class, and he studied the structure as a distraction from his thoughts. He hadn't meditated in days, and was already feeling the lack. Once they were well away and settled, he made a silent promise to find a quiet place and re-center himself in the Force.

The hatch opened and a tall, slender man stood at the top of the ramp. Even without the prior knowledge of their relation, he would have easily recognized the man as Kerenne's brother. The same wild, dark hair, the same smile, the same confident way of moving. Kerenne waved them ahead. "That's Zehrid. Zehrid, this is N'oenar, Ayliana, and you already know Kylia."

"It's good to meet you." Zehrid eyed them each in turn, and though he didn't say anything else, N'oenar felt a disquieting sense of being sized up and, if not judged, at least measured against some standard. Who had set the standard, or what it was, he had no idea. Finally, inspection over, Zehrid glanced at Kerenne and nodded almost imperceptibly.

"Right. Get in, then," Kerenne ordered. "Kylia, to your right, and straight back. You've got the larger sleeping area-"

"Thank goodness," Kylia breathed, taking control of the hovering platform that held her trunks and immediately heading back to the area indicated.

"I'm expecting the launch code any moment, Rosnea's working on it." Zehrid said, pressing a button to close the hatch. Over the hiss of the retracting ramp, he said, "You can show them to their spots, Kerenne." Then the dark gaze shifted to the two former Padawans. "Once you're done, feel free to come up to the bridge area."

With a nod, Kerenne led them to two separate cabins. Ayliana's was near the front of the ship, while his was closer to the rear, near Kylia. He hoped they had simply been joking about her snoring…

"It's not the longest journey, but it's long enough. Get comfortable, stow your stuff, and you heard Zehrid. Come up whenever you want."

N'oenar dropped his pack and cloak, first removing his saber and, after a moment's hesitation, the severed braid. Quickly securing the saber under his tunic and stowing the braid in his front pocket, he left the small cabin and paused at the opening of Kylia's cabin.

"I'll be up there soon, just have to get these things settled-" Kylia sounded distracted, and he couldn't blame her. He'd have no idea where he would even start on the pile of trunks and packs. "Tell Zehrid I'll need his help when he gets some time. I have no idea where the hidden panels are."

_Hidden panels?_ Deciding not to worry about it, N'oenar shrugged inwardly. They were already breaking the law by transporting two Jedi off the planet – how could he fault them for transporting other cargo at times?

"Right. I will." N'oenar shook his head at the pile once more and made his way to the bridge area, where the others were already seated.

Someone was speaking from the comm, so N'oenar sat quietly behind Zehrid, not wanting to interrupt.

"Here's your code, love." The voice read off a long series of numbers, which Zehrid quickly entered into a datapad. Ayliana leaned forward, frowning slightly.

Zehrid sat back with a wide grin, glancing at Kerenne triumphantly. "Thank you."

"Make sure you give them that, we've had some… incidents… already. People not used to the new regulations the Emperor's put in place."

"I mark that, Rosnea. And I appreciate it."

"I hope you do, it wasn't easy getting that code," the voice said before the speaker clicked off.

Kerenne grinned mischievously, sending N'oenar a wink before turning to her brother. "Wasn't easy getting it, she says. I imagine not. So what did you have to trade this time? She's been scoping you out for ages, did you finally give in-"

"In the name of- no! You sound exactly like Lysira, you know that? Although, as good as she is, Rosnea might have a chance. _If_ she wasn't three times my size and bright orange. Not to mention, I prefer my ladies with just one head, not two." Zehrid looked back at N'oenar. "I tell you this, it'll be nice having another man around this ship."

Not knowing quite how to respond, he settled on a nod and a smile. It seemed to be sufficient, because Zehrid turned back to the controls and began to fire the engines. N'oenar watched intently – he'd never seen the bridge area of a ship of this class before in person, and it was fascinating to note the differences between the ones he'd studied and flown in and this older version.

Zehrid noticed his interest and began to explain the controls and some of the specifications. It was obvious that the ship was his first love, two heads or not, and N'oenar listened eagerly. Ayliana also leaned forward, keen eyes watching the demonstration. Finally, the other man sighed. "I'll show you two more later, or Kerenne can. Right now, I'd better go back and help little Miss Noor stow all those trunks away."

N'oenar nodded. "She said she'd need your help."

"I don't doubt it," he replied, standing from the chair. "If I know Lysira, there's illegal items filling up half those trunks. And Jabiim's known for boarding incoming craft so we've got to get them hidden. Should be a little while before we're called to launch, anyway, with the new procedures. I'll be back."

Ayliana frowned at Kerenne after Zehrid left the bridge. "That's strange – normally only military vessels need to wait for-"

"The _Emperor's_ changed some things," Kerenne said dryly, rubbing the back of her neck. "Not for the best, either. It's going to be a little more difficult for anyone to slip in or out undetected. Good in some ways, as it'll bring us more credits, but it's a lot more dangerous, too-"

Just then, the comm came to life and a bored voice said, "Please submit your launch code."

"Damn." Kerenne searched the small shelves under the control panel, tossing datapads behind her as she sifted through them. "Where did Zehrid put that-"

Without thinking, N'oenar recited the number sequence he'd heard when he first arrived in the bridge. Then, realizing that she was unlikely to remember it even short-term, he snatched one of the discarded datapads and entered the sequence, handing it to her. She took it, looking first at him and then at Ayliana, who nodded.

"You can trust it's correct."

One more penetrating glance, and then the dark-haired woman turned and read off the contents of the datapad.

"You're cleared for exit. Your return sequence is-"

After quickly inputting the new number code and pressing some switches on the control panel, Kerenne turned back to them. "How-"

"He has complete recall."

Eyes narrowed, Kerenne studied him. Uncomfortable with the scrutiny, he shrugged. "It's… it's like a datapad. Just permanent."

"That's quite a gift."

"Not always," he murmured. "Some things… some things I'd like to forget." From the corner of his eye, he could see Ayliana turn to him, but he avoided her gaze. He couldn't avoid Kerenne's sharp look, however.

There was silence, then she nodded. "I can imagine."

He was spared from forming a response by the arrival of Zehrid. "All right, everything's secured – what Lysira was thinking, sending Kylia with all that-"

"Code's been given. We're cleared for exit."

"Already? Good. Everyone, get settled in." With that, the thin man slid into one of the pilot seats and began pressing buttons, eyes scanning the readouts as Kylia entered the bridge area and took the seat next to N'oenar. Fingers curled around the hand rests eagerly, eyes large and excited, she looked at him with a bright smile.

He envied her.

The ship lifted easily, smoothly, cutting through the thick air without pause. As the surface on the viewscreen grew smaller and smaller, N'oenar felt a wave of something like homesickness ripple through him. Coruscant. He'd never known another home – he had even been born on the planet, and his earliest memories were of the tall spires of the Jedi Temple, seen from outside… and of the rounded dome of the Galactic Senate… and of a kind-faced woman who spoke to him in a soft voice, though he didn't understand the words. He'd been taken to the Temple earlier than many of the younglings; as son of a medic in one of the many hospitals of Coruscant, his blood had been tested at birth.

Thoughts of the woman that bore him brought to mind Lysira's insistence on the bonds of blood, of flesh – bonds that had nothing to do with the Force and everything to do with a mere chance of birth. He'd thought it a weak bond at best, but as he watched Coruscant dwindle to the size of a child's toy in the viewscreen, he began to wonder if he'd been wrong.


	8. Chapter 7

A/N: Thanks to everyone who's reviewed! I really do appreciate any and all feedback, even just an "I'm reading!" I hope you enjoy this chapter.

Thanks to Buttercup and Rilla for their beta work!

_**Severing the Past**_

_WendyNat_

Chapter 7  
_

* * *

"Sit, my bantha. Sit, and learn." _

N'oenar looked at the room, for once aware immediately that he was in a dream. He wondered briefly if it was experience, or necessity, that allowed him this knowledge.

Master Dannew stared at him from the floor, his patience – as always – endless. N'oenar bowed his head and moved to the thin pad in the middle of the floor. They were in the meditation chamber, a place he had spent many training sessions in over the past years. He had always had difficulty with letting go his control long enough to float, to become one with the Force. "Learn. Yes, Master."

"To save it, you must break it." Master Dannew knelt in front of him on the pad, their knees touching. "You will learn. It is what must be, though it pains me to think of it."

"What will I learn, Master?"

"Remember Vaapad. Learn. There are many examples through history; it can be done, my young Padawan. It can be done. Ice will give way before flame. Just take care to smolder."

It still made no sense as a whole, but N'oenar decided to simply delve deeper into those questions that seemed easiest to decipher. "But… how can I learn? The archives are far from here-"

"You will find a path." Master Dannew bowed his head and let out a sigh. "Ancient Roon will help you."

"Ancient rune? Which ancient rune?"

But his Master was gone, and N'oenar was no longer kneeling on the floor of the meditation chamber, but standing in a long hallway and facing a tall stone wall. He stepped closer to it, the flickering light from the wall sconces allowing him to see only a few loops and whorls of writing. Stepping forward again, his breath caught. The stone itself had been carved with…

… with the Jedi Code.

His hand trembled as he reached up to touch the letters, tracing them with a finger. As he did so, he felt someone approach, and the low voice of his Master recited the words carved into the wall.

**There is no emotion; there is peace. **

There is no ignorance; there is knowledge.

There is no passion; there is serenity.

There is no death; there is the Force.

N'oenar frowned; the first line was crumbling, fading…

"To save it, you must break it." Master Dannew's stare was like a physical weight and when he turned, he was shocked to see tears in his Master's eyes.

Shaking his head, he moved close to the older man. "Master, please-" He held out a hand, not certain if he was offering comfort or asking for it.

Master Dannew nodded slowly. "My Padawan, you remain. Remember." With that, he took something and placed it across N'oenar's palm – something hot and heavier than it should have been, judging by its size. Frowning, N'oenar brought his hand closer to see what the burning object was…

It was his Padawan braid.

"Sit, my bantha. Sit, and learn." 

He woke suddenly, and then sat up, staring blankly at the bedcovers. A dream… he'd been having so many now. Lifting his hand – the one that Master Dannew had placed his braid in – he stared at it. The burning wasn't gone, and a throbbing ache had now joined the heat he had felt in his dream. Even in the dim light, he could see the darkened skin beside the wound.

He groaned. In the excitement of leaving Coruscant, he'd never properly attended the cut on his palm. It was odd, how his dream and his reality had meshed together in that way and, as he threw off the bedclothes and stood, he wondered how much of his dreams were just dream, and how much could be something else. He no longer doubted that at least a portion of them were _something else_, but how much? And what could he trust?

He walked quietly to the small refresher and washed his hand again, then rummaged through the cabinet to try to find a bandage. There may be some bacta on board, but he didn't want to disturb-

"Searching for something?" Kerenne's voice startled him and he jumped, banging his head on the sink.

"No. I mean yes." He shook his head, standing. "I just didn't want to disturb-"

"You didn't. I was awake. I take the late shift." Kerenne raised an eyebrow. "So? What do you need?"

"I was looking for a bandage, but if you have bacta ointment on board…"

With a brusque nod, Kerenne left the room. She returned moments later with a small container of bacta. "Where's the injury? Or is it somewhere I oughtn't see?" she asked with a wink. He felt a brief triumph when his cheeks only colored slightly.

"My hand."

She studied it silently, then nodded. "It's looking a little angry, isn't it? Come on. We'll have more room in the sitting area."

He shrugged and followed her, though he was perfectly capable of applying the ointment himself. After his dream, he rather preferred to have his mind on something else, anything else.

To his surprise, she echoed his thought. "I know you can probably do this yourself, but it's boring in the middle of the night when everyone's asleep. Peaceful, too, but sometimes a little interaction does a person good." Kerenne gestured him to take the seat across from her on the holochess table. "Come on, lay the hand out."

Following her command, he put his hand on the table, palm up. The cut was red and swollen, an infection beginning to take hold. "The window wasn't too clean, I guess."

"Is that where you got this?"

He nodded. "Uneven window sill. Didn't hurt too much at the time-"

"Or you were too distracted to notice."

"True," he muttered, watching as she expertly applied the dark red ointment. "And then I was too distracted to do more than wash it a bit."

Kerenne nodded, then sat back. "Just sit here for a little while, let the ointment work. It's not as good as soaking it, but it'll do for something that small." She tilted her head, a mischievous gleam in her eyes. "So, whose window did you go climbing through?"

Adjusting his hand on the table, he told her the story of their climb and trek through the innkeeper's corridors, smiling when she laughed at the mind trick.

"I suppose I'd better be careful, then, if you're ever talking too much with your hands."

"It only works on the weak-minded." He chuckled and glanced up at her. "You're hardly weak-minded."

"Mmm. Suppose not." She sat back. "I suppose the gentleman in question wasn't the strongest minded being around, then?"

N'oenar grinned. "Not from what I saw. Well, Master Dannew mentioned once that mind tricks can work on the strong-minded, if it's something they would want to do anyway… but I doubt that fits."

"Unlikely," Kerenne agreed with a snort. "If it involved credits somehow… and isn't that a bit dishonest, for a Jedi?"

N'oenar raised an eyebrow, trying to hold back a smile. "Well. Since we didn't really owe him anything, I'd say it doesn't count."

"Doesn't count."

"Right."

Kerenne grinned at him. "You're learning." Then she glanced down at his hand and nodded. "I think it's done. You might want to head back to bed; that's where I'm headed."

"Shift over?"

"Yeah," the deep voice of Kerenne's brother came from the doorway. "My turn, now."

N'oenar turned to smile at Zehrid. "Morning. Or night, I guess."

"Doesn't really matter out here, in space, but it's fun to pretend, right?" Zehrid winked at him, then caught sight of his hand. "Bacta ointment, eh? Good stuff, but it smells rough if you leave it on too long."

"Well, can't have that," N'oenar said, standing from the holochess table. "I'll wash it off before I go back to bed. Good night, Kerenne. And thanks."

Her crooked smile answered him. "Anytime."

--

The rest of the night was free of dreams, at least free of any memorable dreams, and with the deep sleep, N'oenar woke later than normal the next morning. It wasn't surprising, since he'd been up much of the previous night, and with just one refresher on board it wasn't necessarily a negative thing to wake after most of the others. Particularly when Kylia Noor was also on board.

He was fortunate; Kylia was still asleep when he passed her cabin, and he smiled when he heard the light snores coming from within. Apparently, Kerenne hadn't been completely wrong with her teasing.

A short time later, he made his way to the bridge area, where Kerenne and Ayliana were already snapping at each other. With a sigh, he contemplated slipping back through the doorway and relaxing in the sitting area. Or his cabin. Or anywhere, really, that didn't include the icily calm tones of Ayliana and the heated voice of Kerenne. He'd heard enough of their barely-polite sniping the day before.

"Perhaps you should have thought about that, before leaving without any data at all on…" Kerenne's voice continued, but N'oenar had stopped listening. He'd made up his mind. Turning quietly, he began to head out of the bridge, but just then Zehrid turned and saw him.

"N'oenar! Just the person I was hoping to see," Zehrid said loudly, a mischievous grin growing on his face when he saw N'oenar's expression. He likely knew quite well why N'oenar had been trying to slide out unobtrusively. "Come on in, don't be shy."

"Shy. Right," Kerenne said with a snort, but at least she was distracted from her conversation with Ayliana. "Have a seat, we'll be passing some interesting sights here shortly. A nebula that's really pretty nice, and a debris cloud from a planetary explosion of some sort."

He nodded and glanced at Ayliana. Her face was calm and relaxed, and he wondered if it was just his imagination that there was a hint of a smile at the corners of her mouth. Shaking his head, he took the seat next to her. Ayliana had evidently come to the realization at some point that the calmer and more "Jedi" she became, the more irritated Kerenne became. The tension had made him rather uncomfortable, though Zehrid and Kylia seemed to find it endlessly amusing.

They were rather odd people, he'd decided.

Ayliana turned to him – that _was_ a smile on her face! – and raised an eyebrow. "We were just discussing possible destinations, after Jabiim."

N'oenar nodded. "That makes sense. We're only a day or so away, right?"

"Two more," Zehrid chimed in. "Two nights, most likely. Depends on the belts we've got to navigate through, how many jumps we'll need to take." There were a number of asteroid belts and other obstacles between Coruscant and Jabiim, which required constant recalculations for the hyperdrive.

"We can listen to the HoloNet, find out what we can about the current political climate, before we decide for certain."

N'oenar cleared his throat. "There's also the archives… if we can get to them. I didn't see much of the current event data over the past month, but the archives are at the Jedi Temple. We could try to pull the information down-"

Ayliana chewed her lip. "I only have basic access-"

"I've got pretty broad access." N'oenar sat forward, scanning the control panel. "So long as they haven't gotten around to changing the security levels…" And even if they did, he knew the Master access code. Master Dannew hadn't been very careful when entering it, and the number sequence remained emblazoned in his memory.

Kerenne shared an unreadable look with Zehrid, then nodded sharply and stood, gesturing for N'oenar to take her place. "Worth a try."

As he moved to Kerenne's vacated seat, he noted the closed expression on her face and wondered at it, but was soon distracted by the challenge of connecting to the Jedi Temple's archives. It would take too long for them to close down all the access points, so he hoped that one of the codes he knew would work.

"My standard codes aren't working." N'oenar frowned at the readout. "Let me try the Master access code."

"You've got one of those? How did you-"

"I saw Master Dannew enter it," he muttered, shrugging. He hoped Ayliana wouldn't point out the obvious breach of rules and, thankfully, she didn't. Concentrating, he input the code – it was extremely long, and he wanted to be certain it was entered correctly.

He frowned, an icy tendril creeping down his spine. "I'm… it's…" It didn't make sense. This error would only occur if… no. It wasn't possible. Was it?

"Not even the master code is working?" Ayliana's voice was low, but to his ears it seemed to resound through the bridge, echoing in his mind.

He shook his head, mute, the implications hitting him hard. He tried to re-enter the code, but the same error came back. His throat was dry when he tried to speak. "It's… it's not a security error. Not a privacy error, just… nothing. There's… the archive database is… it's empty. There's nothing…"

"So it's true, then." Kerenne's voice was hard and she avoided looking at any of them, staring instead at the controls of the ship.

Ayliana's head whipped around. "What's… Kerenne, what did you hear-"

Her brother answered, his normally jovial tones grave. "They were destroyed. The archives." Zehrid turned from the status readout and glanced at the two Padawans. "Or so the word is. The databases, the computers, some old texts… everything."

"We thought it was just a rumor, though it _had_ to just be rumor-" Kerenne's eyes were on N'oenar, but he didn't notice.

"Destroyed?" N'oenar's voice was just a strangled breath. "All that knowledge, all the work, the effort…" _Knowledge is precious_. "I thought maybe… but they're all gone. All-" He leaned heavily on the control panel, staring at the stars outside the window. All that knowledge… the finality wrapped around his chest, squeezing with cold tendrils… the Jedi knowledge, the code, the broad history…

_To save it, you must break it._

"N'oenar, are you all right?" Ayliana's voice finally cut through the faded buzzing in his ears and he jerked his head into a nod. "Do you-"

_There is no ignorance; there is knowledge._

He squeezed his eyes shut, watching as memory after memory flashed through his mind. Jedi and Sith philosophical arguments, forbidden texts filled with dark awareness, histories of political upheavals on countless worlds, all of it – years of study, years of sights and sounds – he remembered it all. But he had had years, yet, to view and search, years more of study, years… and now, there was no more time. It was gone.

Suddenly, the memory of what Master Dannew had said in his dream hit him and he sat forward. Not ancient rune… "Ancient Roon!"

"What?" Kerenne frowned at Ayliana. "Are you sure he's all right?"

"We have to go there, after Jabiim! Roon! There was a small outpost, it was too far from Coruscant, and the nebulosity – the Cloak of the Sith, you know, that one – it disrupted clear communication. They couldn't establish a direct link to the main archives, so they transferred some of the archives there. Not all of them, but-"

"But some."

"A lot." He looked at Ayliana, eyes widening in excitement. "Some, even, that they didn't want widely seen. The more ancient texts. During the Clone Wars, many were moved there for protection." _The forbidden texts…_ He had helped to prepare the transport of those texts, working beside his Master and Jocasta Nu, and others.

"Roon… I haven't heard of a library there," Ayliana murmured, regarding him speculatively. "But if… yes. The knowledge should be saved."

Kerenne cleared her throat and looked between the two of them, a dark scowl on her face. "You're kidding me, right? They'll have clone troopers crawling over that place, if it hasn't been destroyed already-"

"Maybe not. It wasn't common knowledge, and it's not large," N'oenar began, his voice growing more excited. "Only scholars speak of it, Master Historians, researchers… it's so far off from the main galactic circle, isolated, and it isn't – I mean, it _wasn't_ - exactly a popular place for Jedi to travel. It's very likely that he – they - wouldn't know of it! Ana-" With a swallow, he exchanged glances with Ayliana.

Anakin Skywalker had never been very interested in study, though the weeks before the attack he had been seen in the library quite often, feverishly scanning the Jedi databanks, a hollow look in his eyes. N'oenar wished, now, that he had paid more attention to what the other man had been researching.

Bringing his attention back to the present, he cleared his throat. "The Emperor and his… his informants… probably wouldn't know of it. There's a good chance, especially since they've destroyed the main archives."

"We can't trust that the Emperor won't find out about its existence somehow – or that he doesn't already know." With a definite goal in mind, Ayliana appeared more settled. Excited, even. "We'll need to be quick, after Jabiim."

"Scholars…" Kerenne rubbed her chin. She and Zehrid shared a long look, then he nodded slightly and turned back to the controls. Clearing her throat, Kerenne looked at Ayliana. "It's a start."

--

The rest of the day passed uneventfully. Kylia woke soon after their conversation concerning Roon, and they spent much of the afternoon watching the unusual space objects that, though beautiful, served to do little more than slow their progress. Ayliana and N'oenar, now with a definite objective in mind, both felt the urgency increase with each passing moment.

And so it was with relief that N'oenar begged off another game of holochess that evening and made his way to his bed, ignoring the good-natured jeers from the other players. Zehrid, in particular, seemed reluctant for him to leave. "You're the only one that can beat Ayliana. She'll run the table without you here!"

"Hey, I've beaten her a couple of times!" Kylia exclaimed, slapping Zehrid on the back on the head, which earned her a mock scowl from the man in question.

"Only because she let you," Kerenne pointed out.

"Oh, sure, she says that now, but that last match, she was sweating-"

With a chuckle, N'oenar shook his head and, after waving to everyone, headed for his cabin. And his bed.

Sleep came swiftly.

_N'oenar stood in the round council chamber of the Jedi Temple, and even though he knew it for dream, he still felt the awe. There was a great history here, in this room, great maneuverings had been performed, great decisions made. And, most recently, great evil had been done. N'oenar's hand clenched as he watched the image of his Master, who stood before him. _

"I had hoped that you would never need to lead this bantha, N'oenar. I had hoped this great darkness would pass quickly, that the choices of others would make it fade as promptly as it grew. But it is not to be so. We will light small fires to keep back the dark, but if the dark itself can be destroyed…" Master Dannew spread out his hands.

"How? What can I-"

"That is for another. The blood of the Chosen One will run true in time, though the long winter's night will be even longer for the wait. Knowledge, precious knowledge, we will gain in the cold darkness. Knowledge, it will bring you peace, N'oenar." Master Dannew's eyes were a window into an endless future. "No matter what path you may have to tread."

"The bantha…"

"It will be difficult, to lead this bantha. But the path has been set, for good or ill, and we must prepare, so that the light on the far side of this darkness can be as bright as possible. Remember Vaapad."

"That's the third time you've mentioned Vaapad," N'oenar said, slowly pacing the perimeter of the room. He put a hand on the back of one of the council chairs and stopped. "Did Master Windu-"

"Remember. The time is near."

N'oenar bowed his head. "Yes, Master."

Master Dannew sighed deeply and moved to the window. An inky darkness hovered outside and N'oenar frowned, wondering just what the Master was looking at, and wondering just what the Master's words had meant. He was so lost in this contemplation that he jumped when finally Master Dannew spoke. "That which has been forbidden will be our salvation. Hope remains."

"Master?"

"Hide. **Live**_." _

Suddenly, the inky darkness swelled outside the window, pressing inward, the glass shattering in the path of its power. It swirled around him, the darkness, shielding his Master from his sight, shielding everything from his sight.

"Dream. Learn."

The spinning darkness swept him up, his consciousness, his awareness; he was powerless to swim against the tide, though he tried, struggling….

How do you lead a Bantha?

Finally, he stopped the struggle against it – letting himself go, he allowed it to carry him along, floating as best he could in the dark, trying to gently nudge himself in the direction that pulled at him. As soon as he stopped his fervent resistance, the darkness opened up before him… and he was able to control… just a little bit….

He stood on the bank of a monstrous river of lava, surrounded by heat and ash, a burning wind whipping his hair around his face, almost obscuring the sight before him. A figure in black robes knelt beside a horribly maimed man, a horribly burned man, and N'oenar gasped soundlessly – he knew, somehow he knew_ that this was Anakin Skywalker. What _had been_ Anakin Skywalker. A thin white hand stretched out to touch the blistered forehead, tenderly, almost paternally, and suddenly he felt as he had when witnessing the farewell between Kylia and her mother. _

Just as that thought occurred to him the vision faded, but the wind continued to blow…. He was walking in a windstorm behind a young boy, no more than ten, sand and hot air blasting his flesh raw. As the boy began to hurry, a great urgency overwhelmed him and he followed, across an open lane, through a door and into a small hovel. A dark-haired woman, aged beyond her years, face tight with worry, stood in the tiny kitchen. "Annie! You should have come straight home when the winds began, why-"

"I'm sorry, Mom! I fell asleep. And the storm came up, and I woke up, but I was having the best dream and I didn't want it to be over-"

Evidently used to hearing such things from her son, the woman simply sighed and smiled. "Well, you're here now, that's the important thing. So, what was your dream?"

"I dreamed that I left here, and then I came back, and I freed all the slaves."

Annie… slaves… sand… _With a wrench, N'oenar realized that this, too, was Anakin Skywalker. But young… so young. How often had he heard the stories? No one in the Jedi Temple could have escaped knowledge of the Chosen One's past, nor could they have avoided learning of the death of his mother. N'oenar studied the woman, Shmi Skywalker. This gentle woman was the one who had died so terribly… and in her son's arms, if the stories were true. _

And he knew, as he watched the woman affectionately push the hair back from the little boy's forehead, he knew_ the two scenes were the same… fire and heat or sand and wind, a thin tendril of tender protection connected the two, and he wondered if that unexpected connection was the purpose he had been shown these two visions. One horrific, the other pleasant, and yet, both strangely similar in the beauty of emotion, in their bond. _

The scene shifted once again, and he was swept into the dark tide. He did not struggle, or try to guide it, his mind still contemplating the images he had seen, and suddenly the dark tide let him go, dropping him unceremoniously on the hard ground….

Kerenne stood before him, smiling that crooked smile, that knowing smile. Casually, she wiped off her blade, then made to thrust it back into the thigh sheath… but the memory of his last dream and that hot, slicing pain in his chest prompted him to leap forward, fingers wrapping tightly around her wrist, stopping the knife before it could be resheathed.

Her head tilted, eyes staring at him in curiosity. He shook his head, unable to speak, and then he looked down at their hands – she moved suddenly, fingers loosening around the knife, and he knew_ she shouldn't drop it, shouldn't… somehow- _

"No! Don't, Kerenne! Don't drop it-"

A wave of sadness crossed her face and she shook her head, and the knife hilt slid through limp fingers. Then, even as the blade fell to the ground, her expression changed. Grinning, she grabbed his hand and pulled, and then they were running, the scene around him flickering and shifting, morphing – rain-slicked hills became a forest; tall trees melted and became waving strands of high grass; a shining lake reflected the light of three moons and then the light was obscured as rain began to fall, heavy and wet. She laughed aloud, delighted at the drops, hair hanging in sopping curls around her face, and he laughed with her… until he saw what lay ahead.

He tried to stop them, tried to halt their drive towards the edge. The canyon was deeper than any he'd ever seen… he tried to pull on her hand, to slow her, but she shook her head and continued on, not letting go her grip on his hand. He struggled and she turned to face him, backing now towards the cliff.

"We can't keep going-"

"You're not a Jedi."

She yanked him hard, and then he was falling…

His Master's voice engulfed him as he fell. "To be saved, it must be broken. Do what you must."


	9. Chapter 8

A/N: Thanks to everyone who's reviewed! I really do appreciate any and all feedback, even just an "I'm reading!" I hope you enjoy this chapter.

Thanks to Buttercup and Rilla for their beta work!

_**Severing the Past**_

_WendyNat_

Chapter 8  
------------  
N'oenar woke with a cry, breath coming fast and hard, the sensation of _falling_ still lingering from his dream.

"He's awake! How did you-" _Kerenne? What was she-_

"I didn't do anything."

N'oenar blinked, looking up. Kerenne and Ayliana stood beside the bed, Kerenne's eyes wide as she stared at him. "What-"

"We couldn't wake you," Ayliana said in a low voice. "Kerenne heard you and came to get me-"

"I tried to wake you, but you didn't…" Kerenne's voice was low. Uneasy.

"It's not the first time, Kerenne." Ayliana sat down on the edge of his bed. "He did this when I tried to wake him at Lysira's, when the troopers were searching-" She didn't even blink when Kerenne interrupted her again.

"Does he do this often?"

Now fully awake, he found that being talked about in the third person rather irritated him. "I'm _right here_."

Ayliana glanced at him, amusement flickering across her face before she turned back to Kerenne. "No, not often. Well, I don't _think_ he does it often-"

"Still. Here." He struggled to sit up, but was pinned down by the tight tuck of the bedcovers on one side, and Ayliana's weight holding them down on the other side. Irritably, he yanked the blanket out from under Ayliana - earning him a low chuckle - and sat up. "Did I say something? What was I saying?"

"Nothing," Ayliana said quickly, shooting him a meaningful look that he was unable to decipher. "It was a little hard to understand. Just mumbling."

"Except for that yell-"

"Yeah, except for that."

"Yell?" N'oenar ran a hand through his hair, and he shifted uneasily when he noticed Kerenne's eyes on him. "When did-"

"When you woke, just now."

Kerenne nodded. "I was passing by to tell Zehrid it's his shift, and heard you mumbling and… well, it sounded like you ought to wake up. But you couldn't - it was strange."

"Then she got me. That was just a minute or two ago." Ayliana studied him closely, and he found himself fidgeting under her tight regard. And yet, her eyes were so steady, so wise, that suddenly he had the urge to ask her about the dreams. Most of them, at least.

"Well, I'm awake now. It was… it was just a nightmare." He certainly wasn't going to speak about it more specifically in front of Kerenne.

Kerenne, looking a bit troubled, glanced at Ayliana. There seemed to be some silent communication that passed between the two, and then Kerenne cleared her throat. "Well, I'm glad everything's all right. I'll, ah, I'll see you tomorrow."

"Right. Thanks, Kerenne." He smiled. "I appreciate you checking on me, even if it wasn't anything serious."

She nodded, glanced at Ayliana again, and then left the room. Ayliana stared after her for a moment before turning back to him.

"If you're sure you're-" she began, when he cut her off. He needed to ask the question, even if he didn't want to hear the answer.

"Ayliana?"

"Yes?"

"When you… when you asked me about prophetic dreams, at Lysira's, did you… did you hear something? Something more than mumbling?"

Ayliana sat slowly. "Something. Yes."

"What?"

"It- well, it sounded like you were repeating that old woman, the one on the street. And then you said Master… I don't know, N'oenar. I can't remember. It just seemed to be something more than a normal dream." She shot him a piercing look. "Like the one tonight."

"You really couldn't wake me?"

She shook her head.

"Do you think-" He swallowed, not entirely certain what answer he wanted to hear. "Do you think they are? Prophetic, I mean. Force dreams."

"I'd know better, if you'd tell me more."

He rose, and walked to the small mirror on one side of the cabin. Propping himself against the wall with one arm, he studied his reflection in the dim light. There was a hollowed look around his eyes that hadn't been there before, and he wondered if Force dreams could contribute to that. Did the body truly sleep, when the Force had possession of the mind?

"N'oenar?"

Jumping slightly, he turned away from the mirror and realized she was still awaiting an answer. "I… what do you know of Vaapad, Ayliana?"

She frowned, but seemed to guess that he wasn't asking out of flippancy. "Master Windu's lightsaber technique? I don't know much more than that, other than he was the only one who'd ever mastered it. He might have been the one who developed it, but I'm not certain." She shrugged slightly and looked away. "I was never much of a scholar, really."

He nodded; it was much the same as he knew. He had hoped that she might know more, but hadn't expected her to. Ancient Roon would help him learn, Master Dannew had said. "He told me. Master Dannew did, in my dream. He reminded me of Roon, and said I had things to learn there. Knowledge is precious," he repeated, his gaze on the wall but not seeing it. His mind's eye was filled with the image of that roiling darkness that flooded the Council chamber in his dream. "Shroud the light…" Turning to Ayliana, he shrugged. "A lot of the same things the old woman said."

"Nothing more clear?"

He shook his head. "And I've seen… visions. In my dreams."

"Of what?"

In broken sentences, he told her of the visions he'd had. The Dark Jedi. The duel between Obi-Wan Kenobi and Anakin Skywalker. The black-robed figure that knelt beside a burnt and deformed body. The gentle woman who had so tenderly pushed the hair back from her beloved son's face. Master Dannew's warnings of the great darkness.

But he didn't tell her of his other visions – the visions of Kerenne. There was only one logical explanation for their message, but he didn't _feel_ that that explanation was valid. And he certainly didn't expect Ayliana would believe him on that – she already mistrusted Kerenne. Hoping to forestall any perceptive observations about something missing from his recital, he quickly said, "Is it real? Or just an embodiment of my own conscience?"

She looked up at him, chewing her lip thoughtfully. "Is what real?"

"Master Dannew… is he really there? Some part of him, at least?" He wanted, very much, for Ayliana to tell him that it was real, that there was still a connection between him and his Master.

Ayliana hesitated. "I'm… I'm not sure, N'oenar. This is… well, it's not something I studied."

He nodded, accepting that. The Living Force didn't concern itself with such things – images of future events had no bearing on the here and now, after all. And Ayliana's Master had been a strong proponent of the Living Force.

Suddenly, he wished he'd had time to view the archives, to research these types of things. He's had only a cursory introduction to Force dreaming, it being a subject his Master insisted was better viewed with a mature mind and greater wisdom, because the future was so easily misinterpreted.

_"A path to the dark side, it can become._

"Maybe the Force is trying to tell you something…" Her voice trailed off.

"Maybe." N'oenar sighed and, reaching into his trouser pocket, fingered the Padawan braid. Severed. So many links, severed; so many lives, cut short. With a frown, he muttered, "If it is the Force, I wish it would be a little more clear about what it wants to say."

Ayliana laughed, though he hadn't meant it as a joke. After a few moments, he joined her. "It's just… I'm sorry, N'oenar, but it's kind of a ridiculous situation, isn't it? Here we are, being illegally transported off-planet by a criminal group-"

"Talking about dreams of the Force-"

"And complaining because they aren't clear enough!"

N'oenar grinned along with Ayliana. "It is pretty ridiculous, isn't it?" As she smiled back, he felt his heart ease, the dream images loosening their hold over his mind.

"It is." She stood. "Now, you'd better sleep. It's the middle of the night."

"Thanks, Ayliana."

She smiled at him and, with a small wave, left the room. He moved back to his bed and settled onto it, staring at the ceiling, his heart lighter than it had been in many days.

Sighing, he closed his eyes but just dozed off and on, subconsciously unwilling to slip into a deeper sleep; unwilling to slip into dream. When the chronometer merrily blinked at him that it was, indeed, morning – on Coruscant the sun would just be rising – he finally stood and pulled on a shirt. He could hear snoring and wondered if it was Kylia again, but as he left his room he determined that it was, in fact, Zehrid making the odd gargling/gasping noise. Kerenne must have taken his shift for some reason. Shaking his head, he made his way to the bridge. Kerenne was, as he'd expected, sitting in the pilot's seat.

"Another long night?"

She jumped slightly and turned, smiling when she saw who stood in the doorway. "Come on in, sorry about that. I thought I was the only one awake right now."

"Why isn't Zehrid-"

"I couldn't sleep, so I took pity on him and told him to go back to bed about an hour ago. I can nap tomorrow if I need to - well, later today, I guess I should say." She glanced at the viewscreen and smiled. "I kind of like the night shifts. I'm not used to much sleep, and it's peaceful."

"Oh. If you'd rather be alone-"

"Don't be ridiculous; I could use some company. Sit down." She gestured to the second pilot's seat and he slid into it. She studied him silently, and just when he was beginning to feel uncomfortable from the quiet gaze, she spoke. "What woke you so early? You didn't have more dreams, did you?"

His dreams were something he preferred to forget, particularly the ones he'd had lately that included the woman beside him. Hoping to redirect the conversation, he summoned a grin. "No. I heard Zehrid snoring."

It was the truth, after all.

She laughed, shaking her head. "Yeah, it gets bad when he's really tired. He was up half the night, battling Kylia in holochess. That girl's got a real gift."

"Yeah, she sure does." Kylia had defeated him rather soundly on the few times he'd played her. He wasn't certain which "She even beat Ayliana."

Kerenne made a face when he said his fellow Padawan's name, and he tilted his head. Fatigue, he would later assume, drove him to ask, "What exactly was the issue with you two, anyway?"

"Issue?" Kerenne avoided his gaze and he sighed.

"It might be kind of good-natured now, but when we left Coruscant, that morning… what happened? You all must've been fighting or someth-"

"We weren't fighting." Kerenne sat back, staring out of the viewscreen at the stars. "Not exactly."

"Not exactly."

"You really want to know?"

"I think so."

"It was about you." Kerenne looked down at the control panel, running a finger along the smooth-edged buttons. "And Toryndo. Among other things."

_Toryndo._ The memory still stung. It had been just days… he wrenched his mind away from the crisp image of blue light falling from lifeless fingers. Frowning, he stared at the viewscreen, replacing the glow of blue in his mind's eye with the glow of white from the stars outside of the ship. It was a calming sight.

Feeling more centered, he replayed Kerenne's words in his mind, then tilted his head in curiosity. "About me?"

She shrugged. "I said some things I probably shouldn't have."

"Probably?"

"Maybe I should… apologize." The reluctance with which she said that word was indescribable. With a sigh, she sat back and looked at him. "What do you think?"

He stared back at her, reminded of his conversation with Ayliana in the dark of night. This _was_ an insanely impossible scene. N'oenar Rulon, Padawan to a Master Historian, sheltered Jedi Apprentice, wasn't supposed to be sitting next to a woman who killed men without a second thought, a woman who illegally transported people off-planet… and he was certainly not supposed to be asked for _advice_ by said woman.

The galaxy had gone mad.

"I…" He shook his head, wondering what had made him ask to begin with. "Well. If I knew what you said, I'd know better whether you ought to apologize."

"I just- never mind. Doesn't matter." Kerenne cleared her throat and hit a few buttons on the control panel, ostensibly reading the status on their location. "Water under the bridge, and all of that."

"All right. If you say so." N'oenar looked out at the stars and then back to Kerenne, raising an eyebrow when he saw that she was flushed slightly. What could make _her_ flush? "It must've been something good, though," he commented lightly, curious about her reaction.

"You might say that." She continued to avoid his gaze and he settled back, deciding that it might just be best for him not to know.

"Well. Since I'm not all that well-traveled, maybe you can tell me what Jabiim is like."

Seemingly relieved at the change of subject, she began to speak, telling him of the constant rains, the people, the security surrounding space traffic. He watched her as she spoke, enthralled by her enthusiasm, her obvious love of her home planet. And, as sudden as a star's implosion, it hit him that he would likely never return to Coruscant; he would never again see his home planet.

She continued to speak, her excitement to return to Jabiim apparent, and he couldn't help but feel a very un-Jedi-like envy.

---

Later that day, while everyone else was busy with other tasks (or, in Kerenne's case, sleeping), N'oenar took Zehrid up on his offer of a game of holochess. It didn't go well for N'oenar.

"It's like blasting mynocks in a cave," Zehrid said with a chuckle as he completed his move. N'oenar frowned at the holochess table, hoping to find _some_ way out of the situation he was in. There were only a few moves available to him and, no matter which he took, he would be led down the same path. "A cave with no outlet."

"It looks like I'm cornered."

"That you are!" Zehrid winked at him. "Don't feel bad. Even Ayliana has problems beating me every game. She gets me often enough, of course."

N'oenar grinned. Ayliana had always been a formidable holochess player. "She's pretty good. So is Kylia."

"Kerenne's not the best, but I feel like I have to let her win sometimes, at least. You know how it is, with sisters."

"No, I don't, really."

"What about Ayliana? She's basically like a sister, isn't she?"

"Oh. I suppose so. I wouldn't really know."

Zehrid frowned, obviously confused. N'oenar shrugged slightly, looking at the holochess table. It was hopeless. He made a move, then sat back with a sigh. "No family, no attachment, you know how it is with Jedi."

"Do you remember your family at all?" Zehrid made a show of studying the holochess board, but he was oddly still. There was such an air of _waiting_ that N'oenar guessed there was more to the question than simply curiosity about his family life.

"Well… I was an only child when I was born. Or so the records said. My mother worked at one of the medical centers, so they identified me early. I was very young when I came to the Jedi Temple. Younger than most." N'oenar shrugged apologetically. "I couldn't even talk yet when they took me in. I only remember a few images, feelings, that kind of thing."

Zehrid's eyes shifted from the board to N'oenar's face. "But others are usually older, so they probably remember more?"

N'oenar nodded slowly. "Probably."

The other man seemed satisfied with that, and cheerfully suggested another game. N'oenar agreed, but couldn't shake the strange feeling that came over him when Zehrid occasionally cast considering looks in his direction, when he thought N'oenar wasn't watching.

---

Hours later, N'oenar lay in his cabin, deep in sleep. He murmured, though no one heard, as he slipped once more from innocuous dream into something _more_.

_Images flowed, scenes coming fast and furious, distant memories entangled with present and future events… or events purely of his own imagination. _

Two infants lay side by side on a soft white cloth. One was awake, clear brown eyes staring at the other. His Master's voice came to him as he floated, as the image of the children faded.

**"The blood of the Chosen One will run true in time."**

A Dark Jedi stood before him, saber glowing deepest red as it slashed through the air beside his head. He ducked and spun under the blade, pulling his own saber out just in time to deflect the other man's next blow. Defense was his only thought at first, but as the other fighter grew more furious, he began to go on the offensive, putting every trick and technique he had learned into play. His opponent laughed, a derisive sound, and that spark of fear flared into anger. N'oenar bared his teeth and struck out, driving his opponent back, and he pressed his advantage, blade moving faster and faster. With a quick feint, he encouraged the Dark Jedi to open his defenses and with a growl, he cut the lightsaber handle in two. His opponent fell, remnants of the saber spinning out of his grasp, and N'oenar laughed, standing over him, his own blue saber shining at the man's throat. Then the saber in his hand disappeared, the scene faded into darkness, and he heard Master Yoda's voice.

**"Hard to see, the dark side is."**

A horrific scream startled him, and he looked down into a black room, medical droids filling its dark walls. Anakin Skywalker, disfigured and badly burned, twisted and writhed on the hard table while droids attached new limbs; screamed as they connected the new arms and legs to his nervous system. N'oenar winced, trying to look away, but found that he couldn't. Thankfully, the vision faded, but the sound did not; the screaming continued until it was one long roar, a wordless howl of agony, and suddenly he heard another sound rise above the scream. It was Master Obi-Wan, and he couldn't say which voice held the most pain as Obi-Wan's words tore through his mind.

**"I have failed you, Anakin. I have failed you."**

The pain-soaked roar continued as other images flew past. A beautiful blue-skinned Twi'lek walked through heavy alien foliage, the stalks and flowers enormous and colorful. It was like nothing he had seen before. Then she paused and looked around, but she didn't see behind her. She didn't see her own army attack. Dozens of blaster bolts knocked her to the green-covered ground.

Ki-Adi Mundi stopped on a bridge, snow falling fat and beautiful around him, and turned. Clone troopers that had followed him loyally for years planted their feet, aimed their weapons, and pulled the triggers.

And then he saw the interior of the Galactic Senate chamber. The roar finally ended, its pain still echoing in the wide chamber as he gazed at the wreckage. Dozens of senatorial pods were smashed onto the floor, bent and broken… and as his eyes moved upwards, he saw something that made his throat close in terror. The Emperor, the former Chancellor of the Republic, was perched in a pod high above, throwing Force lightning - Sith_ lightning – at a small robed figure. Master Yoda, it was Master Yoda… the venerable Jedi caught the lightning with his hands, his saber falling to the ground far below, and with a look of pure determination, _pushed_ the bolts of blue lightning back towards the Emperor. Then Master Yoda turned his head, closed his eyes… it was too strong, he couldn't keep… with a loud crack, they were both blasted backwards. _

Master Yoda scrabbled at the edge of the smoothly curved pod, his nails scraping with an eerie whine on the metal as he slowly slid. The small green body tumbled down, hitting one pod far below with a sickening thud, then landing hard on the floor. N'oenar opened his mouth to scream, but no sound came out.

**"Failed, I have."**

Hide. **Live**.

He woke with a gasp, his eyes snapping open and staying wide; he was unwilling to close them again, unwilling to face those images once more. So many had died, betrayed by those they trusted. So many. Even Master Yoda… even Master Yoda had fallen. Had _failed_.

The Jedi Order was truly dead.

With a low sob, he turned over, and as he did so his eyes were caught by the glowing face of the chronometer sitting on the small platform beside his bed. The numbers seemed to have some sort of significance, and as the dream images slowly dulled in his mind, he frowned, thinking.

Then, it struck him. The date…. When the sun rose over Coruscant, it would be his seventeenth birthday.

He felt a wild urge to laugh.


	10. Chapter 9

A/N: Thanks to everyone that's reviewed, and to everyone that's reading and enjoying this fic. I appreciate any and all feedback!

Special thanks to Rilla and Buttercup for their beta help.

_**Severing the Past**_

WendyNat

Chapter 9  
-------------  
"There it is," Zehrid said with a smile, sitting back. His face softened as he stared through the viewscreen at the small dot that grew increasingly larger as they approached. "We're home, Kylia."

"_Almost_ home," Kerenne corrected, looking down at the readouts from the planet's security communications. Ever since the civil wars, Jabiim had increased its air security to ensure no alien armies could come to assist the rebels of either faction. It was a logical precaution, but highly inconvenient for travelers. "Once we get through all this security."

Kylia leaned forward excitedly and Zehrid grinned at her. "Ah, well, the security is all part of home, isn't it? At least we don't have any troubles leaving planet, just entering."

Ayliana and N'oenar stared through the viewscreen at the grey planet below them. He had told her what he knew of Jabiim, its history and rebellions, its basic landscape. The account of Jabiim's landscape had been rather short: muddy. Kerenne and Zehrid had confirmed the description during the final holochess battle earlier that day. "Constant rain. And I mean constant. Most people use repulsorlift skates if they have to get around where there isn't pavement of some sort. You'll sink right in, otherwise." 

As they approached the surface, Ayliana chuckled softly, her eyes trained on the wet shimmer of the ground far below. "Looks like this isn't one of the five rainless days they get each year, doesn't it?"

N'oenar smiled slightly and nodded, but his attention was elsewhere. The images from his dreams haunted him, and at times he fancied he could see the memory of them more clearly than he could see the things currently around him. Master Yoda had fallen. Whether or not the rest of the dream images were true, he felt it deep in his bones that _that_ particular scene had been truth. Reality. Hard and cold, and all too genuine.

Kerenne turned and grinned, and N'oenar pushed his thoughts to the background with a great effort. It wasn't easy to follow the teachings of the Living Force, and keep his thoughts on the here and now, but he would try. 

--

It was a long time before they finally were able to disembark; the security was just as tight as Kerenne had indicated. Luckily, the inspectors didn't find the hidden areas of Kylia's cabin, and once the search was complete, they were left alone to load the repulsorlift sleds.

As long as it took, it was still only late morning when they finally found themselves walking to Kylia's family home. It was, Kylia assured them, quite close, and only required a short time on the repulsorlift skates when they crossed a mud field. When N'oenar took note of the prices requested by lift drivers, he didn't argue.

They walked along the path, his eyes drawn to the sides where lakes of mud shimmered, small dimples appearing as the rain continued. He'd never seen anything like it – fields of mud, even rolling hills of mud, surrounded the spaceport. Ahead of him, Kylia's orange hair was beginning to droop from the light rain. She'd refused to wear a hood, claiming that wet hair was part of being home. Kerenne had rolled her eyes and deliberately pulled on a hooded cloak. "Home or not, I don't like feeling like a drowned wamprat."

Kerenne and Zehrid also walked ahead of them, and he occupied himself for some time by studying their cloaks. They were made of some strange material that appeared to repel water. A blanket made of the same fabric covered the repulsorlift that carried Kylia's many trunks and bags.

As they turned off the side path and onto a main road of sorts, he looked over at Ayliana and frowned. She was walking oddly, her shoulders hunched, eyes darting around. Noticing his stare, she shrugged. "I have a strange feeling, like someone's following, but not quite that. I'm not sure."

N'oenar continued to walk, but he looked inward, feeling… there was something odd, something… someone watching, or following? Ayliana's senses had always been more attuned than his, and he didn't think that had changed. Furtively, he glanced behind them. A number of people also walked the path – the mud was too difficult to traverse, and there were few other dry areas to tread. One, in particular, drew his attention. A being walked, strangely hunched over, and the large hood obscured its face completely. Then, as the crowd milled and shifted, he lost sight of the hooded figure and he shook his head, feeling foolish.

They'd become paranoid, understandably so, but there was no way someone would recognize them _here_. Still, he determined to pay more attention to his senses. Even if he couldn't decipher the meaning immediately, didn't mean that it wasn't significant.

Kerenne seemed to notice their tenseness as they all stopped at the end of the path to put on the repulsorlift skates. She moved closer to him, moving easily on the skates. "Relax, N'oenar. No one here would recognize someone from your family, and even if they did, they wouldn't care."

N'oenar glanced at her, envious of the cloak she wore. His own was beginning to weigh him down, the fabric doing a fair job of holding the rain out, but nothing like the material of her cloak. "Unless there are credits involved."

"There aren't. Not yet, at least."

Beside them, Ayliana stood on the skates, wobbling rather dramatically, her cloak flying back before she could catch it and pull it around her again. Kerenne smirked, but Zehrid called out some tips and, within moments, she was moving smoothly. He only hoped he would do as well.

He stood slowly, recalling Zehrid's instructions to Ayliana, and was pleased that he didn't fall. They all began to head out over the mud field, and that was when he realized his pride had come too early. As the speed increased, he wavered, but he felt better when he saw Ayliana twitching her cloak back around her in irritation. She, too, had been caught off-guard by the speed of the skates.

"You'll get used to them," Zehrid called out. "Takes a day or so."

Obviously, Zehrid wasn't used to Jedi. Of course, he daren't say that, no matter what Kerenne claimed, but with a smirk at Ayliana, he closed his eyes and felt the Force flow through him, through his feet, into the skates…. He zipped past Zehrid, turned with a complicated maneuver, and then swept back to Ayliana.

"Or not that long, even," he called out to Zehrid, laughing when he saw the look on the man's face.

Kerenne chuckled. "You forgot that they've got great skills, didn't you? Oh, don't mind him, you two. He's jealous. Took him forever to learn how to use them when he was a kid."

"Fool things," Zehrid muttered, shaking his head. With a laugh, they continued after Kylia, listening to Kerenne's stories of how Zehrid had reacted when she'd taken right to the skates as a child. N'oenar sighed in satisfaction, still attuned to the Force that flowed through him. The wind whipped his hair about, his hood flew back, and the cleansing rain was light and cool on his face. The Force ran through him, through the air, connecting him to everything, and everyone…

Suddenly, his eyes snapped open. He'd felt it, then. Someone. Watching or following. He looked over at Ayliana, and she nodded slowly. Turning, he scanned ahead all around them, but he saw nothing. Ayliana shook her head also after a moment, but he still decided to stay on alert. A bit of paranoia never hurt, after all.

--

An hour later, they found themselves in the Noor house, dry and relaxed. N'oenar was beginning to get a bit of a headache, however – they were good people, but a room full of Lysira-types were a little too much to deal with. He was still trying to get used to the shocking colors of hair – it seemed to be a Jabiim custom for women to search out the most impossibly odd colors for their hair. Well, odd for humans, at least.

Kylia was in her element, that was certain. He could feel the bond between the family members, and he admired it. It appeared that each generation had shown up at the main house for the homecoming, even the elders who lived in a separate home nearby.

"We haven't spent a lot of time together, really. But it's family." Kylia grinned. "They're always close, no matter what. You've already got that initial bond out of the way, so no awkwardness. Well, not in our family, at least."

That was the truth of the matter, he knew firsthand. It seemed that Lysira's word was enough to award them immediate 'family' status. Within an hour of arriving, he was treated like any of the other young men in the family.

And put to work.

The Noor family appeared to be strongly matriarchal, which wasn't at all surprising, considering the strength of personality Lysira and her daughter displayed. He doubted even Master Yoda himself would have been able to perform a remotely successful mind trick on any one of them. Even the youngest daughter, Iliera, would likely just giggle at the venerable Master and go about her mischief.

"Are you always this outnumbered?" Zehrid asked one of Kylia's male cousins – Metar - as they worked on some droids in a back work shed. N'oenar grinned when the man nodded and rolled his eyes. 

"Usually." Metar turned the electrospanner one more time and stood, switching on the half-dismantled droid and reading some of the output on his datapad. "But we hold our own. Just let them think they're in charge, really."

N'oenar just shook his head, concentrating on the small kitchen droid he was repairing.

"Kylia's actually the best at this type of thing," the young man said, frowning at the readout. It evidently wasn't going as smoothly as he'd wanted. "But with the elders here, they try to keep us in our proper roles."

"And once the elders leave?"

"Then I'm letting Kylia fix this one!"

Zehrid looked over at the young man's handiwork, and grinned. Even after days of seeing it, N'oenar still was surprised to see Kerenne's crooked smile on her brother's face. At times, the resemblance between brother and sister was uncanny. Reaching one long arm out to flip on the droid's power, Zehrid laughed. "Yeah, you'd better let Kylia fix that one, Metar."

"No doubt." Metar threw down the datapad and sat on the ground, content to watch the others work. "We visited her on Coruscant a couple of times. She really keeps Aunt Lysira's droids running smooth, even made some improvements."

Zehrid grunted in agreement. "Yeah. She's good at that sort of thing."

"Really?"

"Yeah." Metar moved some parts to get more comfortable, leaning against a worktable. "Her mom wanted her to run a club, but it's not her thing. She wants to design stuff."

"So that's why she came back here?" N'oenar asked, looking up from his droid. Metar nodded.

Zehrid chuckled. "She's got to listen to the elders' opinions on that, but yes, that's why she came back. Not a lot of openings for droid design on Coruscant – the market's kind of full, if that makes any sense."

"Well, it's full for entry-levels," another cousin muttered. "She's got to make a name here, or somewhere else, before she can try to break in there."

N'oenar nodded along with the others, though he wasn't familiar with what they were discussing. It was far outside his realm of experience, and he found that it fascinated him. So this was how others lived, deciding where to make their name, what location would have the most need for their skills. He supposed that, in a way, the Jedi weren't that much different – except that the Masters identified the younglings skills early, and chose their path for them. They had some choice, but nothing like this.

As he continued to listen to the men's ramblings, he wondered what he would have done, had he been able to choose his own path. Then, with a jolt, he realized that, with the fall of the Jedi, he may now have that choice. He just wasn't certain how he felt about that. 

--

After they returned to the house, N'oenar sought out Ayliana. Her even, steady nature would be calming for him, after his unsettling thoughts. When he asked Kylia where she was, she waved vaguely towards the rear of the house.

He made his way there, wondering where the others had gone. Then, as he entered the back room, he found out. Iliera was gone, having slipped out while the others were preoccupied with other tasks, and the others were out searching.

"Not again! I swear, that girl…" Iliera's mother stood at the back window. Her voice was supposed to sound teasing, but N'oenar could sense the underlying thread of anxiousness. And he didn't blame her – Iliera seemed to lack that normal amount of fear that kept most young people out of immediate danger.

"We'll help look," N'oenar said.

Ayliana nodded and put a hand on the woman's arm. "We may be able to sense something the others won't."

"Thank you both. Those fields beyond the forest are a danger – I think she took some skates, but I'm not sure-"

"We'll find her, don't worry." N'oenar grabbed two pairs of the repulsorskates from the stack by the back door, handing one pair to Ayliana. "Just in case."

"I thought she'd gone out to the work shed to watch the boys tinker with those droids…"

Ayliana squeezed the woman's arm once more and then they left the house, tracking down the path to the forest area. Under the heavy cover of the trees, the ground was more solid, particularly with the thick root systems creating a path of sorts around the mud. Unfortunately, that also meant that any tracks would be difficult to detect – especially if Iliera had, as her mother suspected, worn a pair of repulsorlift skates.

He voiced this concern to Ayliana, and she nodded. "If she brought skates with her, she'd be wearing them, not carrying them."

They searched for some time, scanning both the ground level and the trees, in case the girl had decided to climb up one of the many branches. The cover of the wide, flat leaves kept most of the moisture from them, and N'oenar felt dry enough to shove the hood away from his face to offer himself a better view of the surroundings.

"I don't get it… I feel something. She ought to be around here."

He looked at Ayliana. "Someone hiding? I'm sensing that, too. And close." Frowning, he scanned the trees ahead. Maybe she had climbed up one of them? Maybe-

He didn't need Ayliana's sharp intake of air to realize someone had joined them. He whirled, one hand on his saber, and studied the figure. He felt a creeping sense of hiding, still, but no aggression. No threat. Slowly, he allowed his hand to relax. 

"Can we help you?"

The figure pushed back its hood, revealing a woman's face. Her eyes were wild, and as she stepped forward he unconsciously stepped back. She reminded him of someone…. The woman stared at Ayliana, then smiled widely. "I saw your weapon. I know you can feel it."

"My weapon?"

"When you fell, on the skates. It's hidden well, but your cloak came off, revealing it to my sight. The Jedi weapon you stole. Or maybe you fashioned it yourself, as I did? Just like a Jedi would." The woman shut her eyes, and N'oenar stole a glance at Ayliana. She looked as bewildered as he felt. "The great darkness is on us, now."

The voice was reverent, and he sensed that the woman meant 'great' in a completely different way than Master Dannew had, in his dreams. With a jolt, he realized suddenly where he'd seen her before: the first Dark Jedi that had invaded his dreams. The crazed woman that had cut her own throat. It was the same face, the same voice…

"But you know the darkness, too, don't you? It's good to meet others. My partner was killed…" The woman shook her head sadly, then snapped her eyes to N'oenar. "You're rogues? Or did you turn after being trained?"

"Turned? We haven't turned-" N'oenar spoke without thought, and immediately felt like biting his tongue. The woman's wild eyes grew crazed and she backed away.

"I won't go quietly!"

"What are you talking ab-" Ayliana didn't finish her sentence – the woman whipped out her saber, lit it, and a blade as red as blood hummed in the air. He jumped out of the way as the blade came down next to him, splitting a thick root clean through. His blade appeared in his hand as if by magic, and with a shout he swung it with both hands, the fabric-covered hilt offering a good grip when the two blades crashed together.

"You left off a word," the woman hissed at him over the electrical clash of their sabers. "You haven't turned _yet_."

"I'll never-" He shoved her backwards, hard, and she fell back a step, bringing her blade around to meet both his and Ayliana's. Her foot shot out viciously, knocking Ayliana to the ground and then ducking under his swipe and _pushing_ him backwards. He flew back a few feet, landing hard on a root, dazed for a split second. His shoulder blossomed with pain, but he pushed it back to the far recesses of his mind as he struggled to his feet. She had a strength borne of insanity and anger, emotion, and N'oenar felt a prickle of fear run down his spine.

Then, as the woman's snarling face turned to Ayliana, the fear turned to anger. With a feral shout, he leapt up and brought his blade around, knocking hers away from its arc before Ayliana could even raise her saber.

"Yes, let the ice melt, Jedi," came the words, forced through gritted teeth. Anger, and a dark cloud of fear, began to grow in him as he opened himself up to the Force… there was something more there… something more… power… he reached for it…

_Ice gives way before flame_.

Fear, fear that was a cold slash of pain through his heart, hit him as his mind finally matched her words to those he had heard too many times before. From an old woman's lips. From his Master's lips, in the shallow comfort of dreams.

_Ice…_

He faltered, and as he hesitated he saw the woman's snarl slide into a smile. She came at him again, driven by some dark power, and he tried to whip his saber back into position, but he knew it was too late…

Then Ayliana's blade flew in front of him, an arcing green glow that brought him out of his paralysis. Gritting his teeth, he firmly kept hold of the Force, made it do his bidding. He flowed, along with Ayliana, and their joint attack – synchronized by the Force itself – served to push the woman back. One quick move by N'oenar and she fell heavily to the ground, her saber falling beside her, beyond the reach of her fingers. Ayliana kicked it aside, far into the trees, and they both turned back to the woman.

"Who are you?" N'oenar waited, then, seeing the woman's wide eyes, extinguished his saber. Perhaps she'd be less intimidated this way – and she was unarmed, after all. "What is your name?"

The woman's eyes darted between him and Ayliana, and she licked her lips. Shifting on the ground to get more comfortable, she shook her head. "You won't know it anyway. It doesn't mean anything. I'm a shadow."

Ayliana glanced at him and he could _feel_ her thoughts. The woman was insane, and they should simply contact the authorities. He knew it made sense, and yet, something she had said had earned his curiosity.

Clearing his throat, he looked back at the woman. She shifted again as he spoke. "Tell us. What did you mean by ice-"

A loud thunk interrupted him and N'oenar stepped back in shock when he saw the hilt of a dagger protruding from the woman's throat. She opened her mouth, more shock than pain, and then lay still.

Ayliana spoke first. "Why?" 

N'oenar looked up from the dead woman and saw Kerenne walk coolly over and nudge the body with her foot. "Why did you kill her, Kerenne? I was-"

"I didn't kill her. She killed herself when she decided to pull out this knife." Kerenne bent down, pulling the woman's hand out so they could see the wickedly serrated blade. "It's for throwing." Casually, she pulled the knife from the dead woman's limp grip and hefted it in her hand, grunting in satisfaction as she did so. "Nicely balanced." 

"But we didn't sense-" N'oenar stopped, Master Yoda's voice from his dream replaying in his mind. _Hard to see, the Dark Side is._

His suspicions were confirmed by Ayliana. "She used the Dark Side. It must have clouded our senses."

"Well," Kerenne said, pocketing the knife and pulling her own from the woman's throat. "I came a minute or so ago – they found Iliera, by the way. She was up in some tree or something. Anyway, from what I saw, whatever it was she was using didn't cloud your senses too much. You'd probably have deflected it in the air, anyway."

"Probably," Ayliana agreed, an odd tone in her voice.

N'oenar wasn't so certain, but he kept his thoughts to himself. Kerenne continued to search the woman's cloak pockets and he shifted his feet, uncomfortable. "Do you really have to-" Suddenly, she tossed an object at him and he caught it, surprised to find himself staring at the dark screen of a datapad. "What's this?" 

"You were questioning her. There's probably something on there to answer whatever you wanted to know."

He looked over at Ayliana, but she only shrugged.

"Not too likely," he muttered under his breath, but he pocketed it without protest. Perhaps they could at least learn the woman's name. But that could wait until later – when they were alone. He trusted Kerenne, but this was Jedi business.

--

Later that evening, after the elders had returned to their home, the smaller group relaxed around a couple of holochess tables. It appeared that Kylia came by her skills honestly, as he was summarily beaten by each of her cousins that played. As the competition continued without him, he went to sit by Kerenne at the far end of the room.

"You're out early, too, eh?"

He laughed. "I'm just glad I didn't have to play Iliera. It'd be a bit too much of a blow to my confidence of I was beaten by someone her age. How old is she, anyway?"

"Four, I think." Kerenne grinned. "Zehrid says she reminds him of me, when I was her age."

"I don't doubt it," he said, wincing as he moved his shoulder wrong. His fall earlier that day had injured him more than he'd initially thought, and the lingering pain in his upper arm had continued to grow more intense as the evening wore on.

Kerenne's keen eyes noticed his discomfort, and she frowned. "What's wrong? Did that blade get you after all?"

He shook his head. "No. Nothing that noble. She Force-pushed me, and I fell on a root. On my arm." Idly, he wondered if he should interrupt the game to ask for some of the bacta ointment, but he didn't want to be a bother. It wasn't that bad, after all.

"Come on. I know where some bacta ointment is." Kerenne stood and motioned him to follow her. With a glance at the competition – which was growing more intense, to judge by the fierce attention the others were showing to the two tables – he trailed along after her.

The house was large and open, a testament to the love of family and gathering that the Noor family held dear. One sitting room melded into another, and Kerenne imperiously gestured him to sit in the one closest to the kitchen area. With a shrug – that made him wince again – he obeyed.

She returned quickly with some ointment and sat in front of him. "Right. We've done this before. Now, your arm?" With a grin, he rolled up his sleeve and held it out. She let out a low whistle. "That's quite a blow, there."

He looked down, finally noticing that his arm wasn't just bruised, but the skin had broken open where he'd landed on the sharper edge of the root. "It looks a lot worse than it feels, really."

"That's usually the way of it," Kerenne said as she smeared some of the bacta on his arm. "Something completely unimpressive-looking hurts like you're going to explode, and the wicked marks that other people fawn all over are barely worth your notice."

"True." He felt a bit uncomfortable, but tried not to let it show. Once she was done, he pulled his sleeve back down with a sigh of relief. 

With a teasing glance at him, she laughed. "If this were one of those awful HoloNet romance programs that Lysira's addicted to, you'd be wearing much less." Luckily, her attention was on the jar of bacta ointment as she replaced the lid, so she didn't notice his flush. Still, he had to laugh. He'd caught some of those programs while at Lysira's, and they had been so ridiculous that he'd initially thought them to be some sort of comedy. There was a certain formula, that was certain.

He grinned. "And it'd be a chest injury, of course." He relaxed, pleased that he'd been able to keep the light banter going. It wasn't something he was that used to, at least not with these types of subjects, but it seemed common enough among normal people.

She winked at him. "Or a hip injury."

Despite himself, he flushed, and shook his head when she laughed. "Do you women take classes on this?"

"On what?"

"Putting men off-balance."

She chuckled. "No. It's natural talent, only." She winked again and stood. "Come on, let's get back."

"You go ahead, I'm going to go to bed, I think. I don't want to risk being challenged to a game by Iliera. Talk about off-balance." They both laughed, and he stood, catching sight of Ayliana in the doorway, wearing a very odd expression.

"Game over already?" Kerenne asked as she passed by the other woman. Ayliana nodded, and then glanced at N'oenar.

"I was tired. I'm heading to bed, I think."

"Good timing. I am, too." N'oenar suppressed a yawn. "Good night, Kerenne. And thanks."

"Any time."

--

_He walked the corridors of the Jedi Temple, cloak billowing around him, and beings fled before him. He was power personified. None could touch him, none could face him. Looking down, he frowned when he saw the blue of his saber, and then his eyes widened as the color slowly changed… as it slowly turned a deep red. He gasped, stopping in his tracks. Frantically, he tried to drop the saber, but it wouldn't leave his hand. He brought his other hand around, pulling at the fingers, almost sobbing when they would not budge…._

Then the red saber was gone, the corridor was gone, and he stood in the Council chamber, his Master before him.

"You have tied a line to the bantha, but you do not lead it yet."

"Master Dannew? What… what do these dreams mea-"

But his Master continued before he could finish his question. "You are the Keeper of the Knowledge. You will do what you must, to protect that which is most precious. She is the Keeper of the Faith. She will ensure you do not blaze, to protect that which is most precious."

The horror of the last vision was still on his mind and, though he heard the words clearly, he couldn't concentrate on them. Another question came to his lips, one that had blazed in his mind for days now, and he didn't bother to suppress it. Even if he wasn't sure he was ready for the answer. "Is this real? Are you_ real?"_

Master Dannew was silent. N'oenar waited patiently for some time, but finally he blurted out, "Well?"

"I am as real as you believe me to be, N'oenar."

"That's not an answer."

"It is the only answer I can offer. Remember Vaapad."

"But-"

"Hide. **Live**."

And then he opened his eyes, and stared blindly into the darkness. Sleep did not come again.

--

The next morning, Ayliana came to his room early. She didn't appear surprised to see him awake and already dressed.

"The ship should be ready later today."

N'oenar nodded, standing from his bed, where he'd been kneeling as he sought a meditative state. He hadn't been successful – too many thoughts and ideas swamped his mind, and the exercises to clear it seemed to be beyond him at the moment.

"You dreamed again last night." It was statement, not question. Slowly, he nodded, and Ayliana didn't pause a beat before she asked, "What was it, this time? Can you tell me?"

He couldn't bring himself to tell her of the vision he'd had of himself, of his saber turning. He didn't want to think about what that could portend. "I just… I spoke with Master Dannew again. He said I had tied a line to the bantha, but didn't lead it yet. And that he was as real as I believed him to be." N'oenar frowned, replaying the scene in his mind. "He called me the Keeper of the Knowledge. And he called you, at least I think he was talking about you, he called you the-"

"Keeper of the Faith." When he stared at her, stunned, she returned his gaze levelly. "You're not the only one who dreamed, last night." They stared at each other for a few heartbeats before she looked away, staring out of the window at the slowly lightening gray sky. "What else did you talk about?"

"Are you sure you don't know anything more about Vaapad?" he asked, his voice hoarse.

Ayliana sent him a piercing look, remaining silent for a moment. Finally, she said, "I'm sure of one thing – we need to get to Roon."

"To the archives."

"Exactly."


	11. Chapter 10

A/N: Thanks to everyone who's reviewed - I really do appreciate any and all feedback, even just an "I'm reading!" I hope you enjoy this chapter.

Thanks to Buttercup and Rilla for their beta work!

_**Severing the Past**_

_WendyNat_

Chapter 10  
-------------  
Roon.

With the words hanging in the air between them, Ayliana and N'oenar, in unspoken agreement, veered away from the topic of dreams. It was an unusual thing, to have privacy in the Noor household, and since they hadn't had much time to speak about the events of the previous day, they took the opportunity that their early morning awakening afforded them.

For some reason, talk of a Dark Jedi attacker seemed to be a safer subject than Force dreams.

"I didn't sense her. I mean the rage, the aggression. Until she started attacking." N'oenar shook his head. "The Dark Side… I didn't know it could be masked so well."

"Not that well, really. _She_ didn't, at least." Ayliana stood, moving around the room restlessly. "I sensed something, but I didn't know what term to put to it. It was almost as if… as if she was trying to maintain a mask, but kept letting it slip. Just for a flash, here and there."

"Is that how we sensed her earlier in the day?" N'oenar sat still on the bed, watching Ayliana pace. She normally didn't show this type of agitation; the sense of anticipation, of pent-up energy needing release, was nearly overwhelming.

"I think so." Ayliana shook her head, frowning again. "But I don't know. _That's_ what's so frustrating about all of this. We don't know enough, and…" She trailed off, but he knew what she was about to say.

"And there's no one to ask."

She nodded. "No one to give counsel, to guide us."

He sighed, and stood, reaching a hand into his pocket as he did so. The braid was still there, and as his fingers traced its coiled length he felt himself begin to calm. "We'll do what we can. We can do nothing more."

She looked at him, surprise lacing the edges of her features, and he raised an eyebrow, waiting. Her mouth opened, then closed again as she hesitated. Finally, after watching her in silence for a few more heartbeats, he said, "Whatever it is you're thinking of saying, just go ahead. There's no point putting it off."

She was silent only a moment more before nodding sharply. "I was thinking… we _can_ do something, N'oenar. We can be mindful, and use caution." He tilted his head, waiting. That couldn't have been what had caused her to hesitate - she'd said as much before, on many occasions. Taking a deep breath, she continued. "Well, I've been mindful. And there's still something about Kerenne that I don't trust."

N'oenar shook his head, frowning slightly. "We've been over this already. Listen, Ayliana, I know you don't much like her-"

"I like her fine, and that's irrelevant anyway-"

"But she's done nothing but help us," N'oenar continued, speaking over her interruption. They stared at each other in silence for a moment, then Ayliana sighed.

"I knew you wouldn't listen, but I _do_ sense something, N'oenar. And then yesterday, with that Dark Jedi…"

"She helped us." N'oenar's voice was clipped, and Ayliana frowned.

"Even she said we could've easily deflected the knife, and she's right. Something's out of place here, N'oenar, you have to admit that."

He shook his head stubbornly. "She didn't know we'd definitely deflect it," he began, but Ayliana's jaw tightened.

"And why was she right there? Everyone else had gone searching the other direction. What was she doing there, just in time to kill the woman before we could question her?"

He had no answer. Looking away, he just shook his head mutely. "I… I don't know."

A heavy sigh answered him. And then, "I don't either, N'oenar. I don't, either."

---

Later that morning, they gathered with the others in the large dining area. The conversation was light and fast, with very few breaks to interject a comment or two without interrupting one of the speakers. It was difficult for N'oenar to get used to – he wasn't accustomed to interrupting people and, though no one at the table seemed to mind, for the most part he remained silent, simply listening to the conversation racing around him as he ate.

Eventually, talk turned to their trip later that day. When Ayliana mentioned Roon, Metar frowned. "That's pretty far off the regular routes. Beyond the Cloak of the Sith, isn't it?"

For once, N'oenar was able to edge into the conversation. "Yeah. But there's something there we need to get to."

Ayliana frowned thoughtfully, then turned to Zehrid. "You know, if it's too far out of your way, we could hire another shi-"

"We're not letting you go with another pilot," Zehrid said, his tone making it clear that the decision was final. He smiled at them, but N'oenar couldn't help but feel a slight chill at the tone.

"Lysira would never forgive us." Kerenne winked at N'oenar.

Kylia's aunt stood suddenly. "Speaking of Lysira… follow me, you two," she said, gesturing at Ayliana and N'oenar before heading into the adjoining sitting room. N'oenar looked at Kylia questioningly, but she just shrugged.

"I've got no idea. But you'd better follow her."

Nodding, they both stood and followed the shockingly blonde head into the other room.

When they entered, she was reaching up onto a high shelf, where a small portable HoloNet projector sat. With a grunt, she pulled it from the shelf and placed it before them on the low table. "We received a communication from Lysira last night – there's a message in it for you. Just press here," she said, pointing at a small blue button. "I'll let you listen in privacy. And I'd best get back and make sure Iliera isn't snatching more of those sweet buns." 

She left the room less than a heartbeat later, and N'oenar stared after her for a moment, wondering at how such a large woman could move so quickly. Then his attention was drawn to the projector, which Ayliana had activated.

A wavering image of Lysira stood before them, and he was surprised to feel a bit disappointed that the blue image didn't show which colors she'd chosen for her face paints that day. Her voice, however, was just as strong and clear as it was in real life.

"I understand from my sister's communication that you got there safely – can't tell you how glad I was to hear it. She'd better be feeding you right! Neither of you eats enough, I've got to say. Anyway, to the point, there's a bounty now, for Jedi. Just some information, in case you come across a Jedi or two. It's not safe for them anywhere, now, with the Emperor offering so many credits to any Galactic citizen for a captured - or killed - Jedi." The image of Lysira blinked out, and N'oenar wondered why, at first, until he realized that she had had to step away from the projector, overcome for a moment. She reappeared after a short time, dabbing at her eyes. "Don't return, you two. No matter what you hear. Coruscant's changing fast, and not for the best, either." Then the transmission ended.

"Well." N'oenar looked over at Ayliana and swallowed. "I guess going back to Coruscant is out."

"It was never an option."

"I know." N'oenar sighed. "It's just… odd, that it's so definite, now. We can't go back, no matter what happens."

Ayliana nodded silently.

"It was home."

"It was."

"Ayliana…" he hesitated, knowing that this was a subject not often breached by Jedi. "What planet were you born on?"

She didn't look surprised by the question. With a small smile, she replied, "Naboo."

His eyebrows rose. "Does Lysira know?"

"Of course not," she said with a laugh. "Then again, she might. She knows a lot of things that seem to be fairly secret."

"Do you… do you remember it?"

At this, she did cock her head, regarding him speculatively. "I do, a little."

"A little."

"The waterfalls. A little of my parents, my siblings. Nothing much more than that."

"Oh." N'oenar looked down at his hands. She remembered more than he did, and that seemed unfair, somehow. The one thing he had, the one true skill, was his memory. And even that was too weak to assist him when he desperately wanted it.

"Why do you ask?"

He shook his head quickly. "No reason."

Ayliana eyed him suspiciously and opened her mouth, obviously intent on asking more, but he was saved by the appearance of Kerenne in the doorway. "Is everything all right?" the dark-haired woman asked, looking from one to the other. Ayliana shook her head, and N'oenar grinned.

"It's fine. We just… we just heard some news from Lysira, is all."

"Ah. The bounty, right?"

"How did you know about that?"

"Kylia told us, just now." 

"Oh."

"Not a big surprise, really, but still rather disturbing."

Ayliana snorted. "Rather."

Kerenne raised an eyebrow. "Some places will still be too far out for it to be worthwhile, you know. And some places, the people just won't care enough. But caution is always a good idea."

N'oenar nodded quickly, hoping to forestall another argument between the two women. "So. How far is Roon from here? Metar seemed pretty impressed with how far out it is."

To his surprise, Kerenne shifted uncomfortably, avoiding his gaze. She seemed to be having a silent debate with herself. Finally, she cleared her throat and hesitantly began, "Actually, we-"

Zehrid appeared in the doorway, then, and she stopped, staring at him. There appeared to be some sort of unspoken communication, and then, with a pointed glare, Zehrid finished for her, "We should be there within a day or so."

"Right."

"That's not too long, at least," Ayliana said with relief. She didn't seem to note the way Kerenne's eyes flicked to Zehrid as she agreed, nor the uncomfortable way she shifted as she stared back at her brother. But N'oenar did, and that's when he began to feel the same sense of foreboding that Ayliana had mentioned. He shrugged it off, certain that it was simply his paranoia at work, but the thought remained like a bothersome scurrier at the back of his mind.

--

The rest of the day passed quickly. They packed, spent time with Kylia and her family – Iliera, in particular, seemed reluctant for them to leave – and, the hour before they left, played a final competition of holochess. Kerenne and N'oenar respectfully declined, claiming they didn't want to slow down the real competitors, and sat on the side of the room watching the others. Conversation came easily, and she talked more of her childhood on Jabiim, he enjoyed hearing more stories of her childhood.

"Our parents kept the Jabiim customs even on Coruscant. Birthdays, even, though I've got to admit mine was never anything like Iliera's last. She probably had half the planet here in the house," Kerenne said, a fond smile on her face as she watched the young girl peering over the holochess table.

"I've never been to any sort of birthday celebration. They just pass quietly, like this last one." 

"Last one? When is your birthday?"

He made the mistake of answering truthfully, and yelped when she punched him on the arm.

"Why didn't you _say_ anything?"

Mindful of Ayliana's watchful eyes, N'oenar just shrugged, resisting the urge to rub his arm. At least it wasn't the one he'd fallen on the day before. "Birthdays aren't important to Jedi."

"I can't believe that."

He shook his head slightly, watching one of the holographic figures on the game board smash a neighboring figure with its fist. "Well, Master Dannew always did make a point of offering some treat on my birthday. Nothing overt, really, just some extra free time, or a break from meditation practice. Just enough to let me know that he'd remembered."

"That's nice, I suppose. Different, but I guess a regular party type of thing isn't really very Jedi-ish." 

N'oenar smiled. "Not really, no."

Then, Iliera shrieked in outrage as her last figure was pounded into the table. Zehrid sat back, unperturbed by the young girl's indignation. "Next game, maybe you'll watch out for that move, sweetheart."

"You should've let her win," Kerenne called out.

"Can't do that. And you wouldn't want me to, right, Iliera?" With a mood shift as quick as a jump to light speed, Iliera nodded happily. N'oenar blinked at the transformation.

Kylia stood and made a show of stretching and flexing her fingers. "Don't worry, Iliera. I'll defend your honor. He's no match for me." Bending down, she scooped up her young cousin and sat with her on her lap, eyeing Zehrid challengingly.

"Sadly, she's right," Zehrid said, winking. The others laughed, then laughed again just a short time later as Zehrid stared at the board in disbelief. "How…"

Kerenne shook her head. "Don't even try to figure it out, Zehrid. She's beaten you too many times to count, now, you ought to be used to it." Her brother just grunted. "And I hate to be the breaker of bad news, but we'd better get going before night falls completely." 

N'oenar nodded, standing. As he approached the holochess table, he was shocked when Iliera jumped off Kylia's lap and threw herself at him, her arms wrapping around his leg. "Don't go!" she pleaded and he stopped, dumbstruck, unsure how to extricate his leg from the girl's grip. With a wide grin, Kylia stepped forward and rescued him from his miniature captor.

"She just doesn't like seeing handsome men walk away," Kylia teased. Then, with a sly glance at Kerenne, her grin widened even further. "She really is a lot like Kerenne."

Zehrid threw his head back and laughed, and N'oenar smiled hesitantly. Even Kerenne smirked a bit, though she cast a glance at Kylia that spoke volumes before turning to wink at Iliera. "It's a compliment, sweetie."

Ayliana cleared her throat and turned to Kylia and her aunt. "Thank you, for everything-"

"Nonsense! Lysira says you're family, you're family." Kylia's aunt reached out and squeezed Ayliana's hand. "Be safe, and return."

"We will." There was a thick quality to Ayliana's voice and N'oenar looked at her, wondering if she was actually holding back tears. And then the other family members gathered around them to say their farewells, and he forgot that momentary suspicion, deciding that he had to have been mistaken.

By the time they left the Noor household, weighed down with extra supplies and packs and even another pouch of credits, the sky was darkening from gray to black as the rarely-seen sun set. The rain had slackened to a mist, and they moved quickly, gliding easily over the mud fields on the repulsorlift skates. N'oenar enjoyed the trip, savoring the feel of the wind and mist against his skin, relaxing as the rhythmic motions lulled him into an almost meditative state.

Just as they reached the pavement, however, his gaze shot to Ayliana when he felt an overwhelming sense of _wrongness_, a spike of anger and hatred such as he'd never sensed before the massacre at the Jedi Temple. Had he been standing on his own feet, he would have staggered at the intensity… and then it was gone. He could see that Ayliana had felt it, also, and they both scanned the immediate area.

Kerenne's voice came from beside them, startling him. "We can take the skates off, now-"

"No. No, let's keep them on," Ayliana said slowly, turning her head to look behind them. "We can move quicker, this way."

Zehrid and Kerenne shared a glance, then Zehrid shrugged. "Fine by me. We'll stand out a bit, but that's nothing new."

Ayliana nodded sharply, then took off, her hood falling back as she sped along. N'oenar was close behind her, the memory of that blast of anger enough to spur him on his way. The ship seemed farther away than before, but they made their way to it with relative ease.

They finally removed the skates at the dock, Kerenne and Zehrid's ship rising tall above them. It appeared that Kerenne's claims concerning Jabiim's security were true – the spaceport guards only checked incoming craft, not outgoing craft, and so they were allowed to load the ship without any hassles or searches.

"They're only interested in people who might be bringing weapons in, or armies," Kerenne said in answer to a comment from Ayliana. N'oenar nodded. It made sense – Jabiim had been wracked by civil wars, wars that had been heavily assisted by alien soldiers and arms. It didn't take long before everything was loaded on board, particularly since, as Zehrid claimed, Kylia wasn't coming along on this voyage.

N'oenar shook his head as they finally walked up the ramp, mentally comparing the security on Jabiim and Coruscant. After a moment of thought, he decided that he rather preferred Jabiim's way of doing things.

As they entered the bridge, Ayliana reached into a pocket of her cloak, pulling out the pouch of credits that Lysira had given her. Immediately, Kerenne waved her hand and turned away.

"Keep your credits," Kerenne said, not meeting their eyes. She moved to the front control panel, busying herself with checking the readouts. Ayliana frowned, and this time even N'oenar felt it: something was afoot. Something-

"But-" he began, reaching into his own pouch.

"We don't want your credits." Zehrid's voice came from behind them and, when N'oenar turned to look at him, he returned the gaze evenly. The man was so at ease that he wondered if he had mistaken that sense of something _off_. 

"Why not?" Ayliana asked.

"Because," the tall man said, reaching one long arm out to flip the lever that raised the outer hatch. It shut with a ring of dreadful finality, and a cold feeling spread through N'oenar's stomach. "You're going to help us. That'll be payment enough."

N'oenar looked at Kerenne, and the cold feeling grew as she continued to avoid his gaze. Beside him, Ayliana was very still as she watched Zehrid take the control chair beside Kerenne. "We're going to help you?" Her voice was curiously flat.

"Yes. You are." Zehrid flipped the last few levers and checked a few readouts, then nodded and fired the boosters. "It's a good idea for you to sit, right now." The whine from the engines drowned out any other possible words, so they did as suggested and sat, bracing themselves as the ship left the planet's atmosphere. As the minutes passed, N'oenar's senses continued to prickle at him. _Something_ was amiss. They had agreed to go to Roon after leaving Jabiim, what had-

"I've got to get some sleep. It's late, and by the time it's my shift we'll be in the middle of an asteroid belt, if we time things right. Kerenne, explain it to them. They'll understand," Zehrid said, then rose from his chair and brushed past N'oenar and off of the bridge. He noticed Kerenne glaring after her brother, obviously none too pleased at his departure.

Ayliana hadn't taken her eyes from Kerenne. "We agreed to go to Roon, to the archives-"

"You will, still. After you help us." 

"I knew it! I knew there was something you wanted from us, I could sense it since we first met! And now-" Ayliana began, her voice steady but with an underlying band of heated steel that gave evidence to her true feelings.

"Your senses _are_ acute, aren't they?" Kerenne said, finally turning to look at them. She had a small smirk on her face, a smirk that faded when her gaze met N'oenar's. He could feel the anger welling, a great sense of betrayal – how often had he defended her to Ayliana? How often? And now…

"Yes. They are." The heated steel had cooled, and was now closer to ice.

Kerenne continued, not taking her gaze from him. It was almost… entreating. "It shouldn't take long-"

"Shouldn't. Take. Long." Ayliana repeated. "How long do you think we have, Kerenne? How long before those archives are found? We could have hired another ship to take us-"

N'oenar finally found his voice. "We still can. You can find someone else to help you. Leave us off at the next planet with a spa-"

"I'm afraid that's not possible." Kerenne's voice was cold. Flat. She turned in her seat, ostensibly checking the control panel again, but he rather thought she just didn't want to look him in the eye as she continued, "We need _your_ help in particular. Her senses are acute. Your memory is second to none. Who better to help us find our brothers than two other Jedi?"

The anger flooded into him in earnest, then, and he breathed deeply through his nose, trying to keep it from showing overmuch in his voice. "That could take years, finding two Jedi! They could be anywhere-"

"We have a good idea where they are-"

"A good idea." Ayliana looked at N'oenar, and he knew he mirrored her expression. 

"Yes." Kerenne turned back around, and her expression had lost some of its assuredness. As their eyes met, he could swear that she looked almost… apologetic. It wasn't a natural look for Kerenne, he had to admit. Suddenly, that pointed look Zehrid had cast at her earlier that day, when she had evidently been about to tell them more about the destination, came to him. Perhaps she wasn't so certain of this course of action as her brother? Or was she just trying to trick him, soften him to her request? "We're lucky, actually. Gabris Prime was the location of both of their last assignments, and that's near Roon. It's not even a day's journey."

"How did you find out where they-" N'oenar began, but once again she cut him off.

"There's always information available, if you know who to ask." She paused, then continued, "Right before the attack, I'd checked on them again. Zehrid and I always kept an eye on them, even if we haven't spoken in years; they're still family, still blood… not that you'd know anything about that."

"Not know any-" he began, his teeth clenched, but he subsided at a gesture from Ayliana.

"Listen," Kerenne began, her expression hardening as she turned her gaze to Ayliana. "It's your ultimate goal, isn't it? To find more Jedi? Well, we're supplying you with information on two of them. A matched pair, even."

"But-"

"You told me what you were trying to do back on Coruscant, and it matched what we needed to do. And so we helped you. Now, you can help us." Turning back to the control panel, she flipped the switch that threw them into light speed, and he had to grab the wall to steady himself as the stars became lines of purest white.

There was no more speech until the ship slowed. "There's another day or so before we arrive," she said, turning to Ayliana.

Ayliana breathed in deeply, and then out… N'oenar knew she was grounding herself, getting her emotions under control. He admired it, but didn't feel able to do the same; he needed his anger right now – it was better than that gnawing sense of betrayal. Anything was. She had _lied_ to them. 

"Very well. It appears we have little choice." Ayliana stood, locking gazes with N'oenar. "I'm going to rest." With no further words, she left the bridge.

He stood and stared at the floor after Ayliana walked out, his mind in turmoil. He should follow her example, but a part of him hoped to talk to Kerenne, to find out why-

"They're our brothers. You understand, don't you?" Kerenne's voice was imploring, but he couldn't look at her. She had lied, or at the very least misrepresented….

He'd thought her a friend.

He heard her move across the small room to stand before him, though he still didn't look at her. "N'oenar?"

Her hand was on his arm and he sighed, turning to her. Unable to look her in the eye, he stared down at her hand, saying nothing. A betrayal, after he'd defended her to Ayliana, after he had risked so much to trust… but was it really such a bad thing, what she and Zehrid had done? He realized he'd remained silent too long when her hand slipped off his arm and she turned away, a look of pain on her face that was quickly covered. He opened his mouth to speak, but found that he couldn't. With a sigh, he left the bridge, heading for his cabin.

He passed Zehrid's cabin on the way. The other man was already asleep, mouth open, loud snores rumbling from his throat. Pausing, he stared in for a moment before continuing on to his cabin.

N'oenar sat on the edge of the bed, not turning on the light – he wasn't certain whether it was to avoid giving the lie to his pretense of sleep, or if it was to avoid looking at his own reflection in the mirror.

He sat there for long minutes before laying back and staring at the dark ceiling. He could feel the thrum of the engines change, and he knew Kerenne had returned to her seat at the pilot's chair. The memory of that pained look haunted him, and guilt began to creep in at the corners of his mind.

Was it so terrible, really? They were her brothers. They were Jedi. So she had hidden the truth from them, her true intentions – was that such a crime, really? When they first met, she had simply thought to use them, yes, but he sensed that, over time, she had truly begun to… to care. Or to at least enjoy their company, and desire their good regard. Even Ayliana, though the two women still shared a certain cool tenseness. This recent development wasn't likely to help that, either.

He sighed, unable to bear the guilt of memory, the pained look from a friend. For she was his friend now, whatever her initial motivations in helping them might have been. He could _feel_ her pain, her shame… just as he had been able to feel her reluctance when she finally had to tell them the truth. A particularly loud snort came from Zehrid and he turned, rolling off the bed onto his feet. 

Softly, he padded out to the main bridge and stopped, frozen by the sight before him. The bridge lights were dimmed and Kerenne stood silent, staring out the window, the cool light of the stars shining over her features. She hadn't yet noticed him, and he circled the bridge, remaining in shadow, watching her. It struck him, then, as sudden as a blade through the heart.

She was beautiful. 

Ethereal, in the starlight – light that should have turned to cold ice on her features but instead lit them with a strange glow. Light and shadow played across her cheekbones, the hollow of her throat, her lips. He breathed in as the images from his dreams appeared along the edges of his mind. Then he thrust them aside, unwilling to analyze their meaning here, now. As a distraction, he approached her – though he didn't speak. The silence was too thick, too deep, to touch.

They stood a moment, staring out the window, the tenseness of her body betraying her knowledge of his presence. Finally, in a quiet voice, he said, "I do understand."

A shaky breath left her, and she turned to look up at him. He could _feel_ her relief. They stared at each other in silence, then she put a hand up to press against his cheek. "Thank you."

He hesitated, uncertain what to say, what to do, and then a sound from the other part of the ship startled them both. With a small smile, she stepped back, her face obscured in shadow as she whispered, "You should get some sleep."

Nodding, he turned and left the bridge, the dream image of that mad rush towards the cliff's edge rising sharp in his mind.

_To be saved, it must be broken._

That night, he slept deeply, and did not dream.


	12. Chapter 11

A/N: Thanks to everyone who's reviewed - I really do appreciate any and all feedback, even just an "I'm reading!" I hope you enjoy this chapter, it gave me a few fits.

Thanks to Buttercup and Rilla for their beta work!

_**Severing the Past**_

_WendyNat_

Chapter 11  
-------------  
"Ayliana, try to understand-"

"I understand perfectly."

N'oenar ran a hand through his hair, blowing out a breath in irritation. Her tone was tight, and though he didn't doubt her words, he knew she still wasn't settled with the situation. Would she ever be? They were alone in the sitting area of the ship, the holochess board silent between them. He'd risen early that morning, intent on speaking with Ayliana as soon as possible, to be certain that nothing untoward happened when Kerenne woke to relieve Zehrid. "They're Jedi, after all. That's our main mission, right? To find other Jedi?"

"It _was_ our main mission, until Roon came up." Ayliana looked at him. "Until I began to dream."

"The Keeper of the Faith."

She nodded, glancing down at her hands. She opened and closed her fists a couple of times, and then shook her head. "I think… I don't know. I dreamed again last night."

N'oenar was instantly alert. "What?" His sleep had, for once, been free of disturbing images, devoid of anything but blessed rest. To hear that Ayliana had experienced something different was unsettling.

"This side trek… I think it's something we must do." She frowned. "But I'm still not happy about it. And I'm not sure – I mean, why lie about it? Why deceive us? They should have known that we'd willingly help, once we were through on Roon. Something doesn't fit."

"Maybe they're as paranoid as we are." He rubbed his face, suddenly wishing he'd just stayed in bed. He had no answers. "I imagine most people they're used to are pretty… well, pretty shady, I suppose. Maybe they thought we'd give them the slip after Roon, after getting what we needed."

"Maybe." Ayliana shook her head again, a stubborn expression crossing her face. "But I still-"

"Whatever happened to, 'It's the will of the Force'?" N'oenar asked without thinking, and she shot him a sour look.

"It seems to be the Force's will to put barricades in our path, but… maybe they're barricades we need." She took a deep breath, then let it out, nodding slowly. "You're right, N'oenar. We must trust in the will of the Force. It will end in balance."

He hadn't actually meant it in that way, but it seemed to bring her comfort, and so he didn't correct her.

---

After their early morning conversation, and some meditation practice, N'oenar felt a little more at ease. He'd tensed when Ayliana and Kerenne first crossed paths, but was able to relax when they just passed each other with a terse nod. It seemed that Ayliana accepted Kerenne's reasons for the deception, though she may not agree, still. N'oenar couldn't blame her – he came close, many times, to asking why they had felt the need for deception, but he resisted the impulse. Sometimes, it was better to just not know.

Luckily, the brother and sister team hadn't exaggerated when they said the trip would be short, which was good for everyone's nerves. A half day's journey was nothing compared to the trip from Coruscant to Jabiim. At one point, during a navigational readjustment, they all took a break in the game area of the ship, and Ayliana's sound thrashing of Zehrid on the holochess board – and the accompanying good-natured jibes - helped to relieve what lingering tension still existed.

As they approached Gabris Prime, N'oenar joined the others in the main bridge area, and watched with interest as the brightly colored planet came into view. Vivid blues and reds – patches of color that faded into the other – were clearly evident through the sparse cloud cover.

"It's beautiful," Kerenne murmured. Beside her, Zehrid nodded.

"I've seen pictures, but this… it's different, when you know you're right outside of it, seeing it," N'oenar said, comparing the memory to the reality, and deciding that the reality was far superior.

"What are those colors from?" Ayliana leaned forward, tilting her head. "Some sort of rock?"

"Kind of. It's crystal, mostly, but from what I understand, even the rough ground stones have similar coloring."

Ayliana nodded. "What else do you know about this place?"

"Well, there are electrical storms, they're actually a tourist attraction. We're lucky we came during the day."

"Tourist attractions? So they're used to outworlders?"

"Yes." N'oenar chewed his lip thoughtfully, reviewing everything he'd learned about the planet, sifting out that which he thought Ayliana would find valuable. "The political situation was pretty unsettled a while back, but it's supposed to have leveled out. Some sort of royal family is in charge, with appointed governors that handle each province area."

Kerenne frowned as the comm crackled, then went silent. She tried the standard hailing again, and then sat back. "Might still be out of range. I don't suppose you know how they are on security, do you?"

N'oenar shrugged. "Nothing unusual that I remember. Nothing that was mentioned, at least. But… well, that was before the Empire."

"I hope his arm hasn't reached this far already," Zehrid muttered, his eyes scanning some of the readouts. The tension was back, and this time even N'oenar could sense it coming from the tall man in front of him. He shared a glance with Ayliana, who shrugged slightly.

"His brothers," she breathed, and N'oenar suddenly made the connection. The Empire… the bounty on Jedi…

"We can't trust that it hasn't," he ventured, watching as Zehrid's back straightened further. "The bounty-"

"I know."

Kerenne turned in her seat, looking at N'oenar and then at her brother. Reaching out, she put a hand on Zehrid's arm, and said, "But we can hope that it hasn't." The two shared a look, and the unspoken communication seemed to bring a comfort to Zehrid. Even without the Force, there was a bond that they shared, a bond of blood and affection that he'd once scoffed at, and he felt the envy deep in his bones.

Then the comm sprang to life, and Kerenne spun back to the controls, and the moment was broken as she guided the ship to the landing site assigned by the speaker. The planet grew larger and larger in the viewscreen, the colors still beautiful though less vivid as the more subtle shadings became apparent.

They landed effortlessly, and even N'oenar, with his limited experience, could recognize the skillful way that Kerenne and Zehrid handled their ship. He was pleased to discover that the security was standard, though the planetary laws had a couple of surprises. After a fast scan of the ship for illegal items and a quick admonition to stay within the rules of the law, they were given a rundown of the more exotic regulations.

One struck N'oenar as rather unusual, and the question burst out before he could stop it. "Can't fly after dark? But-"

"Lightning storms." The gruff humanoid scratched his – or her? – second chin. The noise was rather sickening, since the chin was also covered by coarse hair, and N'oenar had to concentrate to hear the being's next words. "Knock you right out of the sky. Fun to watch but it gets messy to clean up, crushing beings on the ground and such."

"Oh."

"There's other ways to get around the planet. The speedercart drivers'll be over you like mynocks on a freighter soon as you leave this port," the humanoid said, still scratching its chin. "Head for the Grethid District. Plenty of outworlders there, inns, food, tourists."

"Thanks."

With a nod and a wave from its free hand – N'oenar didn't want to think about what could be wrong with the creature's second chin, that it had to continuously scratch it so – the humanoid turned and shuffled off to inspect another newly landed ship. "Well. That was informative."

"Quite." Ayliana shouldered her pack and looked at the others. "Let's get moving. We won't find anything standing here. Or anyone."

N'oenar and the other two followed without argument. As they walked through the crowded spaceport, headed for the main road, he kept his awareness open, straining to sense any hint, any spark of light that would indicate a Force user. He could feel Ayliana in front of him; even when the crowd closed around her for brief moments, her light shone brightly in the Force. Like a star, a beacon, she glowed in his awareness, and he knew that she was just as mindful of their task as he was, that she was searching just as strongly as he was for any other spark.

The sun was bright – a yellow so pale it seemed white – and N'oenar squinted as they stepped out from under the cover of the spaceport. Some beings seemed quite confident in their destinations, passing by without a second glance at the newcomers, while others stood still, staring at the line of odd vehicles and beings streaming by with looks bordering on bemusement.

And N'oenar didn't blame them. The speedercarts were a strange union of regular hoverspeeders and manually-drawn carts, with what appeared to be retractable wheels underneath and two long poles attached to the front. The drivers stood outside of their individual carts, watching the beings walk by and, on occasion, trying to coax passersby to hire them.

"Wow."

"Yeah." Kerenne shook her head. "Can you imagine having to pull one of those things?"

"I'm sure it's assisted somehow," Zehrid commented, eyeing the drivers. "Or maybe the price just goes up after dark."

"Probably," Ayliana said. She was also eyeing the drivers, and N'oenar could see her light shining brighter as she reached out with the Force. Suddenly, she nodded with a decisive jerk of her head. "Let's go with that first Rodian."

Zehrid looked at Kerenne, who shrugged, and then took the lead, heading towards the green-skinned man. As they passed some of the human drivers, N'oenar noticed a few sour looks being sent their way, and he made a note to keep his senses attuned for more than just Force users.

The speedercart driver nodded immediately when Zehrid pressed some credits into his palm and asked if he would take them to the Grethid District. A careless gesture indicated they should board, and N'oenar wondered at Ayliana's senses. This was the best driver?

The cart was small, but comfortable enough, and as soon as they were settled the Rodian took off, moving slowly until the crowd thinned out. Then, once they were in the open and away from the immediate boundary of the spaceport, the driver laid on the power, the whine from the engines almost deafening as they accelerated. "Sounds like he needs to work on that engine a little," N'oenar called to Ayliana, who nodded distractedly. Settling back as the whine faded, he watched the scenery fly by.

They passed several brightly lit signs with a yellow flower on them, and N'oenar finally leaned forward to ask the driver about them. "What're those signs for?"

The Rodian's dialect was strange, but N'oenar was able to understand most of it as he was told that the flower was the symbol of this province – there were other symbols for neighboring provinces: a white mountain for the Danbreen province, a blue tree for the Hroten province, a cluster of red gems for the Rhentron province. The Rodian continued to list others, but N'oenar had stopped listening, his attention drawn by the amazing sight of a small mountain of blue crystal and rock.

"That's just gorgeous," Zehrid breathed, his gaze also drawn to the glittering hillside. The almost-white light of the sun sparked blue fire from the crystals, and made even the rough rock that formed the majority of the mound glow with an eerie light.

Kerenne leaned forward, her shoulder touching his as she pointed to the other side, where a mound of similarly constructed red rock sparkled. "I like the red, myself."

As they continued out of the settled area around the spaceport, the mounds became more frequent, until it was apparent that they simply formed the foothills of what would become a larger chain of mountains. N'oenar wondered if the crystal was on the surface only, or if the entire mound was filled with the same substances, and occupied himself pondering the question for the rest of the short ride.

Soon enough, the mountains faded and civilization came back into sight. He blinked at the garishness of it all, and reflected ruefully that the chin-scratcher had indeed mentioned that it was a tourist area.

The Rodian nodded pleasantly as they left, and directed them to an inn that was owned by a friend. Without any other guidance, they took his suggestion. It was well-appointed, and clean, and when the innkeeper heard that his Rodian friend had sent them to his door, he smiled broadly and showed them to his best rooms. As they were shown the opening to the rear gardens, which happened to include a rather large lake, N'oenar sent Ayliana a sidelong glance, wondering if she'd been able to sense all _this_ from the Rodian before choosing him as their driver. But she appeared just as bemused as he felt, so he immediately swept the thought aside.

Zehrid and Kerenne seemed to be well pleased with the situation, though they still haggled the price with the innkeeper. N'oenar almost objected, but he sensed from the innkeep that a friendly debate over price was commonplace – expected, even – and so he kept his thoughts to himself.

A few hours later, after taking some time to refresh themselves and rest, they headed out to the main street to see – or, more accurately, to sense - what they could find. Some spark, some sense of light usually pointed out other Force users, and it was the most likely way to hunt down the Kharr brothers. The street was already crowded with people, many of them tourists, though there did appear to be some locals mixed into the crowd.

"May the Force be with us," Ayliana murmured as she looked around. N'oenar felt a sinking feeling in his stomach when he saw the surging mass of beings. How were they going to find two Jedi in all of this? They didn't even know if they were in the right province. N'oenar sighed.

Some sort of marketplace theater was going on, and the crowd was thick around the makeshift stage. N'oenar tried to make out some of the lines by the actors, but the crowd was too loud, and they were too far removed from the stage.

"Do you sense something?" Zehrid asked, sending Ayliana a piercing look. She glared at him, and N'oenar could feel the irritation flowing from her for a moment before she was able to get it under control.

"I sense that this is a nearly impossible task, that's what I sense." She squeezed her eyes shut and sighed. "But… it won't get done if we just stand here. Come on, let's keep moving."

They walked into the crowd, N'oenar and Zehrid cutting a path through the throng, and eventually they made their way to a side street where the crowd was thinner. "People here seem to like plays," he commented, shaking his head. With a sigh, he glanced around, then closed his eyes. "Just a minute."

He concentrated, reaching out with the Force to sense anything… anything… he was one with the Force, it flowed through him, and he felt everything around him, connected to him… the rough pavement, the stone wall of the buildings, the shops packed with souvenirs and oddities and… the tiniest spark….

His eyes sprang open and he stared at Ayliana. "You felt it, too?" she asked, and he nodded.

"Felt what?" Kerenne looked from Ayliana to N'oenar, but they both ignored her question.

"This way." Ayliana set off down the street, still shining in the Force, holding on to her awareness of that connection. He was glad she did, for he was too distracted to retain his connection. It was similar to meditation, in a way, which was explanation enough for why he had more trouble with it than Ayliana did. Then again, she was uncommonly talented at sensing things….

They stopped before a strange shop, dark stone accented with splashes of red and blue. A sign above the door proclaimed it to be "Rohnid's Rarities."

His fellow Padawan frowned and looked around. "I felt it this way… but it's gone."

Zehrid scowled and moved to the entrance of the shop. "Well, we ought to check it out." Flinging open the door, he went in, the others close behind him.

"Evening," a large man stood from a stool behind the counter. "Can I help you folks with anything?"

"Just looking, thanks," Kerenne said, a bright smile on her face, and N'oenar almost gaped at the believably innocent expression.

"Right. Well, if you've got questions, just let me know."

Kerenne nodded and turned to one of the displays, feigning surprise. "Zehrid, look! You had one of those when you were a kid, didn't you?"

"Yes, dear sister, and you broke it. Pretending it was an assassin, I think."

They wandered the shop for a few minutes, N'oenar and Ayliana pausing at times to feel their surroundings with the Force. The shop was full of rather odd finds – tables packed with unusual rocks and stones, small carvings from the farthest reaches of the Galaxy (if one trusted the claims of the small signs set in front of each item), strange bits of old machinery.

He smiled as he made his way through the shop, considering that, if he had his choice, a shop like this might be an interesting way to make a living. There were even some texts in one display and he moved closer, studying them. Then, as he bent forward to look at the fabric cover of one of the smaller pieces, he froze as something in the corner caught his eye.

He straightened slowly, sending Ayliana a significant look before heading to the corner to see if his initial suspicion had been correct. And, as he moved closer, he discovered that he had been right.

It was a lightsaber.

There was no sign, nothing to proclaim the origins of the piece, but N'oenar could see that it was a modern design, the rubber grippings made from the newer, smoother material that had been discovered on one of the Outer Rim worlds during the Clone Wars. Reaching out, he picked up the weapon, hefting it in his hand.

"Do you know many Jedi?" His question was casual, but it sparked such an overwhelming sense of secrecy and _hiding_ that he immediately regretted it. Slowly, he put down the saber. "Just curious, is all."

"Someone sold it to us. Not sure who." The man leaned against the counter, arms crossed over his chest, thick muscles evident through the thin cloth of his shirt. "We get lots of strange types passing through here."

"I'm sure you do. I was just wondering." N'oenar looked around the rest of the shop, noting the array of alien weaponry lining the walls. "You've got quite a collection."

"Thanks."

Ayliana caught his eye, as did Kerenne, and he was relieved when they lingered only a few moments longer before leaving, the weight of the proprietor's stare heavy on their backs. As they walked out of the shop and back to the main thoroughfare, he wasn't surprised when Ayliana gave voice to his thoughts. "He's hiding something."

"What?" Kerenne frowned, and Ayliana shook her head.

"I don't know. But I think we should go back."

"Not right away. Not today. It'll look too suspicious."

"But-"

Kerenne glanced at Ayliana, apparently unmoved by the other woman's urgency. "We don't want to make him shut us out completely, which he'll do if he thinks we're some sort of investigators."

N'oenar tilted his head. "Why would he think-"

"Your accent is too obviously Coruscanti." Zehrid nodded when N'oenar turned to him. "Nothing you can do about that, but it's enough for someone that's heard it to know."

"Oh." As Zehrid spoke, N'oenar sensed it again, that overwhelming sense of secrecy, and he wondered at its intensity. How could he still feel it, this far from the man? Swallowing, he cast a casual glance behind them, but didn't see anything unusual.

They spent the rest of the day exploring the merchants and crowds close to their inn. Kerenne had suggested a methodical approach – splitting the area into sections and searching a different one each day. With no other ideas, Ayliana agreed, albeit reluctantly. To N'oenar, and no doubt Ayliana, it increasingly appeared that they were on a fool's quest.

For the next few days, their routine was much the same. They walked the crowds, and entered the businesses, and spoke to the people. Zehrid often had a throng of admirers surrounding him when they entered clubs or bars, as did Ayliana, though she tried to gravitate towards groups of young women to avoid the trouble. After the first couple of clubs, N'oenar was glad of Kerenne's presence, for she was somehow able to head off the bolder young women with a cool glare (and sometimes, an obvious fingering of her throwing knife). "Working interference," she called it, and she said it was common enough among friends that went out in groups to such establishments.

Each night, when darkness fell, the crowd swelled even more, shopkeepers and other locals joining the throng of beings in the open streets. N'oenar was glad for the increased crowd – the more people, the better chances they had of sensing one of Kerenne's brothers, and as the days went by without even a hint of their location, with no more sparks or other clues, he grew more anxious. His dreams hadn't bothered him overly much, but Master Dannew appeared at times, reminding him of Roon, and of Vaapad, and his sense of urgency grew.

But he had to admit that some parts of their mission appealed to him. He loved the moment, after darkness fell, when the Gabris Prime's true beauty appeared - amazing bolts of lightning, all colors crossing each other and blending together, would begin to streak across the sky with abandon. The very randomness was mesmerizing; he stared, and felt the power course through him, almost as exquisite as the Force, and was awed.

Ayliana now looked at the mission with a single-minded intensity that startled him. When he asked about her new vigor one day as they continued without pausing for lunch (at her insistence), she tartly replied that the sooner they found the brothers, the sooner they could get to Roon. He was oddly pleased that she'd lost her composure enough to snap at him, and then he felt guilty.

But not too guilty.

--

Four days after landing on Gabris Prime, N'oenar dreamed again. This time, it was more than a simple reminder from his former Master.

_They walked along the edge of a lake as dusk fell. Three moons rose in the sky above them, their light just beginning to trade intensity with the sun. Master Dannew stopped suddenly, staring out over the water, and N'oenar followed his gaze. He saw nothing. _

"Danger. It will follow you, for your light shines brightly. It is a blessing, and a curse."

Unlike in his earlier dreams, he was immediately aware of himself. With a shake of his head, he frowned. More cryptic talk._ "I don't understand, Master." _

"You will. The shroud must be lowered. The birds must fly free."

"Am I one of the birds? Is Aylia-"

"You must free them, when their cage drops. And then, you will also be free."

"All right, Master. But-"

"The Force has two sides. The wisest among the Jedi acknowledge this. Remember Vaapad."

Vaapad again. With a sigh, N'oenar looked out over the water. The three moons were reflected clearly in its calm surface, and he stared at the wavering image for a few moments. "Are you real? Is this real?"

But Master Dannew ignored his questions. Turning, the older man reached out to put a hand on N'oenar's shoulder, squeezing gently. "To be saved, it must be broken."

And then everything faded away, and scene upon scene passed through his mind, fast and furious. Toryndo fell, blue light shining as it tumbled to the ground below… another blue saber, wielded by a hero, cut through Padawan after Padawan, Masters falling to its fury… a hundred deaths rushed before his eyes, stacking on top of each other, the scenes shifting so quickly he couldn't keep track… and then it went still.

A dark Jedi stood before him, face hidden within a deep hood. Without warning, a red saber came streaking through the air towards him, the low-pitched hum causing the bones at the base of his skull to ache. He deflected it, knocking it aside with his own blade, and then fear became anger as he attacked… teeth gritted, he let the anger fill him, let its heat warm his bones and grant him strength.

Then, slowly, the anger became something else, and a deep hatred began to form against this attacker, against this man who refused to show his face. With a growl, he flew at him, pressing his advantage, and in moments, he felt a surge of power that he'd never experienced before. The red saber flew to the side, a hoarse scream came from the depths of the hood, and N'oenar smiled, leveling his saber at the fallen man.

It wasn't until that moment that he noticed the glow of his own saber had changed… to a deep red.

He woke with a gasp, staring wildly into the darkened room.

A dream.

Groaning slightly, he rolled off the bed and stood, glancing at the clock. It was late, but not as late as he'd expected, and it was likely the others were still awake. He had gone to bed early, hoping to catch up on sleep before another grueling day of keeping his senses on edge, listening with more than just ears and seeing with more than just eyes. It came naturally to Ayliana, but for N'oenar it required a bit more effort.

He shrugged internally and left the room, heading for the garden area behind the inn. The lake was a calming sight, and the continual lightning show would keep his mind off the images from his dream.

Or so he hoped.

He had just sat on the bank of the lake when he heard Kerenne's voice. "Dreaming again?"

"A little." With a shrug, he said simply, "Memories, more than anything."

"Not always the most pleasant of things."

"Not always," he agreed.

She walked up next to him, her feet silent in the grass, and he watched as she settled next to him. "Too bad it's not the future you're dreaming about. You could set up shop as one of those soothsayer people."

He sighed, staring at the lake, and it was then that he noticed the reflection of the three moons on its surface, and his breath caught. It was the lake from his dreams… almost. This night, lightning was also reflected on its surface, and the fine hairs on the back of his neck stood up as the charged atmosphere surged around him. It was different enough from his dream vision that he drew comfort from it, under the lightning and sky, and the dream began to fade, its dark edges letting go their binds around his chest as he spoke to Kerenne of the future.

"I guess… I guess I have to think about that, sometime. What to do, once this is all over." He shrugged, picking up a stick and twirling it in between his fingers. The faint sound of voices came from within one of the other rooms that opened onto the gardens, but the noise quickly faded. "I don't really have any useful skills. Any marketable skills."

"What are you talking about? That memory of yours-"

"That's not a skill," N'oenar said irritably. He tossed the stick into the water, watching the ripples that formed. His eyes followed it as it slowly bobbed back to the surface and floated away. "You can buy a datapad that works just as well for twenty credits."

"Twenty-five, now." He turned to look at her and saw her wide grin. "Inflation, you know."

He laughed, surprising himself.

"Come on, let's get inside. It's late." She winked at him as she stood. "Don't want Mother Ayliana to get worried."

He nodded and, after casting one last look at the forked lightning overhead, headed inside to the room he shared with Ayliana. In mutual agreement, he and Zehrid had suggested the sleeping arrangements when they first arrived at the inn; neither man could think of many things more volatile than placing Ayliana and Kerenne in a room together for hours on end.

Making his way through the sitting area to their room, he waved at Zehrid and Ayliana, who were now embroiled in a table game involving a number of stones and cards that he recognized from one of the shops they'd visited that day. Unable to sit still for long, Zehrid had purchased a number of similar items over the past few days as they'd searched the merchant areas. N'oenar had been glad – he'd already proven his inability to compete in holochess with either of them, and some of the newer games were more fitting to his skill set. Perhaps later, he'd come back out and challenge Zehrid to a game.

But not right now. He entered the room, closing the door quietly behind him, and picked up the pack that lay next to his bed. Something had struck him when Kerenne mentioned datapads, and he fumbled through his pack, searching. With everything that had happened after leaving Jabiim, he had never sat down to look at the datapad that Kerenne had taken from the Dark Jedi's body. Finally, he found it, deep in the pack. As he pulled it out, he noted absently that there was a stain much like dried blood on the side. In another lifetime, that might have bothered him, but now he simply wondered if it would work after the abuse it had suffered. With a shrug, he turned it on, mildly surprised when it immediately responded.

Settling himself on his bed, he propped up some pillows and leaned back, scrolling through the contents. It appeared she had used it as some sort of diary, one that only she expected to read, because the references to people and places were laden with personal nicknames. Frowning, he scanned the screen, trying to decipher some of what was saved there.

Her ramblings were just as insane in the datapad as they were in life, but he was able to glean some information from it. Her partner's death had sent her over the edge into madness, he believed, for the entries prior to his disappearance were far more coherent. Mostly. She had explored, in a rather rudimentary way, the differences between the Jedi and Sith philosophy, even including the crystals used to construct a lightsaber. He wondered who her partner had been, the identity of the person that had spent so much time to train her in the Jedi arts, only to encourage her to use them to reach the dark side of the Force.

He read, ignoring everything around him, his attention utterly consumed by this look into the making of a madwoman. On some level, he was aware when Ayliana entered the room, aware when she knelt quietly on her bed to meditate, but it didn't reach his conscious mind. He was intrigued by this intimate view of Sith philosophy, and his eyes moved so quickly that he had passed one screen before his memory caught up with him.

What?

Not daring to trust his memory, hoping that he'd read the words incorrectly, but at the same time certain that he hadn't, he scrolled back to the screen in question. Feverishly, he read.

_What I was taught before was a lie. The Jedi Code – what use is it? I can hear the Masters now, droning on and on. There is no emotion; there is peace. A Jedi cannot afford emotion, and so he must become ice before the furnaces of the dark. _

But now I know the truth: ice is weak, and emotion is strong, and it will fall before the fires of truth. The dark side grows stronger within me each time I use it, as my mentor told me it would – he did not lie. I feel it, the power, surging in me, when I let loose my control and allow the truth to flood in. The dark side of the Force is power and truth, and I weep now that I never realized this before. That I have wasted so long being ice, when I could have blazed. The Jedi are fools. Ice gives way before flame, as it should.

Ice gives way before flame.

He stared blankly at the screen for a moment, his mind bringing image after image, memory after memory, and the puzzle pieces began to fit together. Cold, cold such as he had never felt, prickled his skin as he watched and heard.

_An old woman grabbed his sleeve and, in urgent madness, insisted, "Ice will give way to flame – to smolder is the key; to blaze is the sin." _

Words etched stone crumbled before his eyes and, though he couldn't read them all, he knew what it had once said. There is no emotion; there is peace.

"The code broken. Ice will give way to flame. It is what must be."

It fit.

Master Yoda's voice sounded in his ears. "Hard to see, the dark side is…"

"You will do what you must, to protect that which is most precious…"

"That which has been forbidden will be our salvation. Hope remains."

"Hide. **Live**."

It all fit.

No, it couldn't be… he flung the datapad from him, scrambling from the bed. He backed away, staring at the datapad as if it was a venomous dragonsnake. But it wasn't a dragonsnake; it was worse. Much worse. It wasn't possible. It wasn't… it just wasn't. Master Dannew couldn't mean….

_"The great key, the intentions of the wielder – anything is a weapon!" _

"Is it real? Or just an embodiment of my own conscience?"

"Maybe the Force is trying to tell you something…"

"The Force has two sides."

It couldn't be. A Jedi would never-

_You're not a Jedi._

"N'oenar? What's wrong?"

_"It can be a weapon, or not – intent is the key." _

Shaking his head, unable to speak, he stumbled from the room. Everything he'd learned, everything he'd been taught, went against this. The dark side… a Jedi wouldn't-

**_You're not a Jedi._**

He leaned against the wall and slid down, his face dropping into his hands.

"N'oenar!" Ayliana was beside him, kneeling – how could he tell her? How? But… how could he not? "N'oenar, what happened? Are you-"

He lowered his hands, looked at her. "I'm all right," he said, his throat dry, and he reached into his pocket to feel his braid, the braid that had been severed. It was a part of his past, another lifetime, and this revelation made it clear just how separate his past and present were.

Maybe he had come to the wrong conclusion, maybe…. Ayliana, she would know, she would – no, he couldn't ask her. He couldn't. There's no way this was what the Force wished of him, it couldn't be possible. He must have misunderstood.

But the pieces fit together too well.

_To be saved it must be broken. You must have the courage to break it._


	13. Chapter 12

A/N: Thank you so much to everyone who's reading and reviewing! I hope you enjoy this chapter and, as always, I welcome any and all feedback!

Many thanks to Buttercup for her amazingly fast and thorough beta jobs.

_**Severing the Past**_

_WendyNat_

Chapter 12  
--------------  
_N'oenar stood in a rough-hewn stone corridor, a single flickering torch illuminating the area. Master Dannew stood in front of him, facing the wall, where the carved words of the Jedi Code appeared once more. The first line had almost completely crumbled, only the faintest indentation remaining where letters once cut sharply into the stone._

"Master Dannew?" N'oenar's voice shook, and though he knew it, he could do nothing to stop it. "I'm wrong, aren't I? You don't want me to do… to do that, do you? The dark side, it's… it's against everything…" He trailed off, uncertain how to continue, particularly since the man in front of him hadn't reacted at all to his words.

Master Dannew didn't reply. Instead, he sighed deeply and turned, walking off down the corridor. N'oenar watched him in disbelief for a few moments, and then hurried after him. The corridors changed around them, rough stone turning to smooth marble, and then to the subtly colored walls of the Jedi Temple. They moved faster and faster, floating five steps for each one taken by their feet, and it was so dizzying that N'oenar stopped paying attention to the surroundings and just stared at his Master's back, occupying his mind with contemplation of the mechanics of dream.

They continued like that for a time until Master Dannew stopped suddenly, and it was then that N'oenar dared to look around. They were in the Jedi Temple's Council chamber, but only three seats remained in the chamber. He frowned, a strange sense of foreboding overtaking him as he stared at the missing chairs. Biting his lip, he glanced at Master Dannew and saw the other man nod.

"Three yet live."

N'oenar's breath caught, but he did not dare to ask which three of the Jedi Council still lived. He didn't think he could handle the answer. Outside the window, the darkness roiled, thick and impenetrable, and N'oenar shivered as one tendril separated from the mass and seemed to reach out towards him.

"Master? Was I right? The dark side-"

"To be saved, it must be broken." Master Dannew turned to the window, leaning heavily against the sill, and N'oenar stared at him. He looked old. Worn. "Remember your teachings, but do not fall into the trap that some have, for denial of something evil or wrong can be just as limiting as full belief in it. Ice will give way before flame; it is what must be, to save that which is most precious."

He shook his head, taking a step back, and then another, until he backed into the side of one of the three remaining chairs. Reaching out a hand, he steadied himself, and tried not to wonder which Master had once sat in that chair. Or which Knight… __

"I… I can't."

"You can."

"I won't."

"You will. You must." Master Dannew turned and stared at him, an unending sadness in those familiar eyes. "Lead the bantha, but take care. Do not blaze; it can_ be done, N'oenar. Remember Vaapad. It _must_ be done."_

"Why… how could it help, for me to do this? To use the dark side? How could it help? Everything I've learned-"

But Master Dannew was fading already, his voice but an echo in the darkening chamber. "Follow your final orders, Padawan. Hide. **Live**_." _

N'oenar opened his eyes and breathed deeply, staring into the darkness, watching the muted flashes of lightning that shone through a slit in the window coverings. It was hard to imagine… Master Dannew _did_ mean him to use the dark side. He did, or the Force did. But was the Force's will one entity, or did each side – dark and light - have its own will? And, if the latter was the case, then which side was speaking to him in dreams?

Sighing, he turned over and stared at the wall, counting the lightning flashes until sleep took him again.

The next morning, he woke well after the sun rose. Its rays brightened the opposite wall, and he squinted as he sat up, trying to get his bearings. It was a challenge for him, even after weeks of the experience, to become used to sleeping in different places; the Jedi Temple had housed his bed for too many years to count. At the thought, a sudden image of three council chairs sprang to his mind, but he pushed it back even as the memory of a dark tendril reaching for him overtook the vision. Darkness seeking him out?

Rubbing his face, he picked up his clothes and splashed some water on his face in the small refresher that he and Ayliana shared. He was glad she was out of the room already – she had tried to get him to speak the night before, but he refused. After a few aborted attempts, she had given him some peace – and ordered him to sleep, which he did.

After finishing in the refresher, he took a deep breath and walked out into the sitting area. Ayliana was alone, watching something on a small holonet projector. When he entered the room, she turned it off immediately.

"How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine."

She eyed him skeptically and opened her mouth to speak, but stopped when Kerenne appeared in the entranceway. For once, he was glad of their mutual tension. Anything to keep Ayliana from questioning him further; the temptation to tell her was strong, but he knew he couldn't. He was certain of that. He just wasn't certain if it was because she would dismiss the idea, or because she might take it seriously.

They left early that day, and on the street and in the shops, he found plenty to distract him from his dark thoughts: intriguing items, compelling personalities, strange beings shouting at each other in their own guttural language. Some of the distractions, however, he could do without.

As they searched, he and Ayliana kept their senses raw and open, hoping to hear or see or sense something from any corner that would give them a clue, or a hope. They scoured alleyways and the main street, small back areas and shops, merchants and crowds, but they sensed nothing.

Nothing, that is, until later that evening when they sat to eat a quick meal. They normally returned to the inn to eat in their rooms, but they were low on provisions and so decided to stop at a small café. One far from the large crowd gathered in front of another impromptu stage. There were still plenty of beings about, but the crowds were nowhere near as thick here as on the main street, and N'oenar felt himself begin to relax. Dusk was falling, and the air was pleasantly warm. He'd heard a number of beings speak of rain expected the next day, but that evening it was perfect.

As they sat, chatting after finishing their meal, Ayliana's head suddenly snapped up and she met N'oenar's gaze.

"I felt it, too."

"What? What did you-"

"No, not that. Someone searching. Someone else searching." Ayliana frowned, a crease forming between her brows as she concentrated. "It's gone already."

"I can't feel it anymore, either. It was just a flash."

"A flash." Kerenne and Zehrid shared a look, then Zehrid threw some credits down on the table for the server and stood. "Come on. Let's follow your flash." As they left the table, Zehrid snaked out a hand and grabbed a couple of the sweetcakes, winking at Kerenne when she smirked at him. N'oenar shook his head. The man ate more than anyone else he'd ever met.

N'oenar followed the others, falling behind slightly as his senses began to prickle with the feeling of being followed. He considered calling out to Ayliana, but the feeling was so vague he couldn't even pinpoint the direction, and she needed all of her concentration to recall the direction of that last spark. That elusive _searching._

As he walked, flashes near the ground caught his eye. Small clumps of crystalline rock lay scattered in the path, perhaps blown there during one of the storms that he'd heard mentioned. Blue and red, glittering even in the low light, sometimes a group of crystals appearing purple with the mixture of colors.

Suddenly, a feeling of danger spiked in his throat and he lifted his head just as a cloaked figure reached up and grabbed Zehrid's pack. The tall man shouted, twisting around as far as he could with his arms still tangled in the straps of his pack, and sent a brutal kick at the figure. A low grunt, and then the shine of metal appeared in the attacker's hand.

A blade.

Hand on his saber, N'oenar leaped forward, but before he could even take two steps, Kerenne had bent down and picked up a rock, whipping her hand around and hitting the thief hard on the temple. It was a solid hit, and before N'oenar could take his third step, the man had crumpled, striking his head again against the rough pavement.

N'oenar winced at the sound.

Cursing, Zehrid checked his pack and then pulled it back on, glaring down at the street thief as other beings on the street gasped and muttered amongst themselves. "Can't go anywhere, nowadays."

"Guess you looked like easy prey," Kerenne said, grinning at her brother even as she bent down to snatch up the knife that lay on the pavement. He wondered, as she did so, why she had opted for the rock rather than her own knife, but this wasn't the place to ask.

"Oh, quiet, you." Zehrid glanced around at the small crowd that had gathered and raised his voice. "Everything's fine. I've got my pack, and he's still breathing." N'oenar knew he couldn't have been the only one to hear the regret in Zehrid's voice at that fact. 

"We'd better get back to the inn, I think," Ayliana said in a low voice, glancing down at the thief. "I don't feel anything else, and for all we know it was the thief I sensed."

N'oenar nodded slowly. "It was a searching feeling…"

"Exactly."

Kerenne and Zehrid looked at each other, then Zehrid nodded. "All right. Let's go." Hefting his assaulted pack, he led the way back to the inn.

Once there, Zehrid and Ayliana immediately entered into a game of holochess. Zehrid had found a secondhand version of the game and bought it on sight. One of the chess pieces flickered off and on, which probably explained the low price, but Zehrid proclaimed it to be completely serviceable.

In unspoken agreement, Kerenne and N'oenar went out to the lake to watch the lightning show. As he sat and stared at the streaks of jagged colors above, his mind began to head back to the dream he'd had the evening before, and the questions that threatened to drive him insane.

"An interesting outing, today," Kerenne remarked.

"Interesting? That's one way to put it. You were quick with that rock." N'oenar frowned at the water. Lead the bantha… "I was surprised you didn't go for your knife-"

She shook her head. "Too many witnesses for that. I don't fancy sitting in whatever serves as a jail on this planet, if I'd killed him."

"Yeah, I suppose murder is one of those 'extreme crimes' that was on that regulations list." He scratched his chin, then realized what he was doing and stopped. "I never would have thought to use a stone, though, when I had other weapons available."

"Anything is a weapon in the right hands. You could kill me with your fingers and your will, if you really wanted, couldn't you? That Force choking thing?"

He felt a chill creep down his spine and raised his head to stare at her. "That's… that pulls on the dark side." How could she know about that?

"I know." She must have seen his confusion, because she smirked. "I've heard the stories, too."

"Oh." Stories?

"But, yeah. You use whatever you can, if you want to hurt someone enough."

He sighed, tossing a small stone into the water. It landed with a plop and quickly sunk under the surface. "Maybe that's my problem," he said, half to himself. "I don't want to hurt anyone enough."

She shrugged. "It's not a problem. You become the weapon, if the need is there."

"What do you mean?" He knew his voice sounded urgent, but he couldn't help it - he needed to know, particularly after his dreams from the night before. Knowledge could come from any corner, as Master Dannew had said time and again during their studies, during his training. 

With a serious look, she pulled out the long knife from her thigh sheathe and hefted it, twisting the blade to catch the light from the moons. "This knife, its blade is sharp. If I'm not careful, when I sheathe it I could slice right through my leg. So I'm always careful, because it doesn't care. It's saved my life, and the lives of those I care about, but it has no soul, no thought, no conscience. It would kill me as soon as it'd kill anyone else."

He frowned. "But-"

"I become the knife," she said simply. N'oenar stared at the blade, the glow from the moons reflected in its flat side, glinting off the sharp edge. Her hand, smooth and soft, looked odd against its deadly menace. Out of place, and yet… natural. Perhaps sensing his confusion, she continued, "If I need to kill, I have to become the knife, become the tool. That's how I do it, when I don't care enough to _want_."

He remembered, again, the casualness with which she killed, and before he could stop the words they sprung out. "Do you ever care?"

She stared at the blade for a moment, then lowered it and sighed. "Sometimes. Not often."

"No regrets?"

"Never."

"When Sneelis attacked me…"

"I cared." He shot her a look, but her face was turned away. She continued, "I didn't know you, but I knew you were a Jedi. After what had happened in the temple…"

N'oenar rubbed his neck for a moment. "I remember. You said, after you killed him, 'We've lost enough of you already.'"

Kerenne remained silent for a time, twirling the blade in her hand. "You do have a good memory, don't you?" 

"Most of the time."

She switched the hilt of the knife from her one hand to the other without hesitation or loss of agility, and he wished for a moment that he was able to do the same. He'd always been quite strongly right-handed; though he'd trained to use both when wielding a lightsaber, it was easily apparent to anyone watching that he favored his right. Glancing at him for a moment, she asked, "When don't you?"

"When I'm very angry… or upset. Strong emotion clouds it sometimes," he murmured, staring at the glint of her knife. He only hoped that she didn't question him further. _There is no emotion; there is peace._ "Emotion. It clouds memory, judgment…"

"Clouds it?"

"Yes."

"Well," Kerenne said, studying the knife's edge. "Maybe the Force is trying to tell you something."

"What?"

"That sometimes emotion is more important than your clear judgment." She lifted her head and looked at him, and he was struck again by the light playing across her face. The knife still sat in her hand, its blade and her eyes reflecting spots of light, flashes from the lightning. The rest of her face sat in shadow, and the contrast was striking.

Light and shadow. Emotion and passion. He nodded slowly, looking out at the water. Perhaps it was the will of the Force, bringing her to speak of these things to him, or perhaps it was simple coincidence. Either way, the thought had merit, though it went against all the teachings of the Jedi. But, so did everything he'd been told in the Force dreams. He had the sudden vision of his world shifting under him, and now he no longer knew where to place each foot as he struggled to move forward. It was an unsettling image, but it fit. It fit all too well.

Letting out a long breath, he looked over at Kerenne. She was still watching him, and he froze, an odd feeling threading through his stomach as their eyes locked. He wondered what she was thinking, what she saw when she looked at him, what she-

"I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"

N'oenar jumped when he heard Ayliana's voice, and then flushed when Kerenne's mouth twisted in a small smile. Then she turned her attention on Ayliana and the smile faded. "No," she said, glancing back at N'oenar once more before standing and sheathing her knife. The scraping noise as the blade slid home made the hairs on the back of his neck rise. "I was just heading inside, actually."

"Oh. Well, don't let me keep you."

N'oenar winced inwardly. Over the last couple of days, the animosity between the two had continued to increase and, while it was still subtle, it was apparent enough to anyone that knew the two women well. With a sigh, he stood. "Good night, Kerenne."

She nodded once in his direction, then turned on her heel and walked back into the inn. He watched her go, eyes following her steps, and he didn't turn to Ayliana until she had disappeared. When he did, he saw a troubled look on his fellow Padawan's face.

"Are you all right, Ayliana?"

She blinked and nodded. "Yes, yes, I'm fine. I ought to be asking you-"

"I'm fine."

"Good."

They stood in silence for a moment, then N'oenar cleared his throat. "Well, I'm going to go to bed, I guess."

"Wait, N'oenar…"

"What?"

She stared at him, biting her lip, and then finally shook her head and smiled slightly. "Nothing. Just… good night."

"Thanks. You, too." Turning, he left Ayliana by the glittering waters of the lake and went back to their room.

A short time later, he was settled in his bed, eyes firmly closed. Sleep would come, and perhaps dreams, but for once he didn't dread the thought of the dream. There were questions he had, questions he wanted answers to, and he could think of nowhere else to ask them but in his dreams.

Guided by his will, sleep came swiftly.

_He stood before Master Dannew in one of the Jedi Temple's dueling rooms. He had spent many hours in these rooms during his years as a Padawan, and as a youngling in the temple, but he allowed himself to be distracted only for a moment before stepping forward._

"She said – the old woman – that intent was the key. 'The great key, the intentions of the wielder – anything is a weapon.' Those were her words. Is that what you want me to do? How can I-"

Master Dannew raised a hand, and N'oenar fell silent, his training too ingrained in him to ignore the command. Without speaking, his master pulled out a lightsaber and held it in front of him, turning the handle in the light. Then, abruptly, he handed it to N'oenar. "That saber. Is it a tool for defense, or a weapon for attack?"

Without thought, he began, "It's a tool for-" He stopped. Swallowed. Remembered the shine of Anakin Skywalker's blue blade as it cut through Padawan and Youngling and Master. "It… it depends on how it's used."

"Correct."

"So, the dark side-"

"The bantha you must lead is not so simple as that lightsaber. The saber doesn't encourage; it has no will_. Smolder, do not blaze, and the heat should be a healing rather than an injury. A protection."_

"But, to use it for my purpose-"

"Remember the bantha. You will have to follow it to a point, but remember yourself. The Keeper of the Faith will aid you. Remember yourself, and guide it in the direction you wish to go. Carefully, cautiously, you must lead this bantha, or much worse will happen than your shoulders being pulled from their sockets. Much worse." His master began to fade, the room began to fade, but N'oenar called out one more desperate query.

"But I don't know what direction to lead it; what should I-"

A whisper of an echo answered him.

"It will be made clear, in time." 

----

By mid afternoon the next day, the rain was heavy enough to force them back to the inn, and while Zehrid went for more provisions, the other three settled in the sitting area. Not in the mood for conversation, N'oenar grabbed a datapad to ostensibly do some reading while Ayliana and Kerenne played one of the table games that Zehrid had acquired. 

He stared blankly at the screen, hitting the scroll button on occasion, but his mind was filled with the memory of his dream from the night before. He had gone about the normal motions all day, trying to put his conversation with Master Dannew out of his head. It wasn't as simple, now, with less distraction to take his attention away, but he tried. Unfortunately, he wasn't very successful.

The dark side. A weapon… intent was the key. He wasn't sure what was shocking him the most, now – that the Force willed him to do this, or that he was actually considering it. As he sat thinking, he heard Ayliana once again start on the subject of their search.

"We could have easily gone to Roon first and then searched for your brothers-"

"There isn't time – my brothers can fly somewhere, your Roon can't!"

"They could already **be** gone-"

With a sigh, N'oenar shook his head. They'd gone over this before, many times before, and he didn't see the value of rehashing it once again. Particularly when his mind was occupied with other thoughts, other questions.

How could it be possible? 

Master Dannew wanted him to use the dark side. But to do what? To hide? To protect that which is most precious? _What_ was this most precious thing that the Force was hinting at? So distracted by his thoughts, he didn't notice when the women's casual tones turned more serious. He looked up with a frown and was surprised to see Ayliana scowling, hands splayed flat on the table as she glared at Kerenne.

"How long will we continue this pointless search?"

"Pointless?" Kerenne raised her head to look at Ayliana, ice covering her features.

"It's almost impossible, Kerenne!" With an obvious effort, Ayliana brought herself under control, matching Kerenne's icy stare. "This could take a very long time."

"Then we'll look for a very long time."

"And what if we take too long, and we walk into the archive library on Roon and it's already covered in clone troopers?"

"Then I'll collect the bounty for two Jedi." Kerenne's lips twisted and she flicked her gaze in N'oenar's direction. "Or one, at least."

Ayliana stared at her for a moment, then slowly shook her head. "You know, I almost believe you'd do it."

"You'd almost be right."

N'oenar sat forward and opened his mouth, ready to interject, but a low tone from the main door interrupted him. He sighed in relief – Zehrid had never had better timing, though he wondered how much the man had purchased if he was unable to free a hand to activate the door switch. "I'll get it." Standing, he walked to the door and opened it. And stared.

It wasn't Zehrid.

The shopkeeper from the oddities shop stood before him, taller and wider than he'd looked in the store, possibly because he was standing within three handspans of N'oenar. Ignoring N'oenar, the man looked over his shoulder and spoke to the two women. "I'm sorry, we didn't know-"

N'oenar glanced behind him and noted Ayliana's hand on the hilt of her saber.

"Didn't know what?" Kerenne's voice was casual, but the way her fingers rested on the hilt of her throwing knife told a different story. N'oenar moved back slightly; she'd never missed before, but he didn't want to take the chance.

"We didn't know they were your brothers."


	14. Chapter 13

**_Note: _**Many thanks to Buttercup and Rilla for their wonderful betas! Thanks, also, to everyone who had taken the time to review this story – it really means a lot, and definitely spurs the muse along! I hope you enjoy the chapter.

_**Severing the Past**_

WendyNat

Chapter 13  
-------------  
N'oenar would never forget the look on Zehrid's face when he entered their rooms and saw the large man from the oddities shop standing near the entryway. His timing, N'oenar mused, was really quite good.

"What…" Zehrid froze, his arms full of provisions, and blinked a few times. "What-"

"That's what I was going to ask!" Kerenne said, stepping forward, her hand still hovering near her throwing knives.

The large man's eyes flicked down at Kerenne's fingers, obviously noting her readiness to strike. He raised his own hands, and N'oenar couldn't help but think that the appealing gesture seemed very odd when performed by a man with arms as thick as Jabiim tree roots. "No need for that. I've talked to Jerner, your brother, and he told me who you were."

"Jerner? You've seen him?" As Zehrid stepped forward, the door slid shut behind him.

"Talked to him a few days ago," the man said. "I'm Rohnid, I own Rohnid's Rarities, that shop you went into-"

"We know," Kerenne said through clenched teeth. "What did you talk to him about? How do you know we're-"

"I sent him a message. Took me a few days to get an answer back, you see. Sarn, he's my business partner… anyway, I talked to Sarn when you left, and we decided you were bounty hunters-"

"What?" N'oenar blinked. _Bounty hunters?_

"The accent, the questions about the Jedi weapon – didn't add up to anything I liked, I'll tell you that. Sarn, either. We didn't know until I mentioned you to Jerner and he-"

Kerenne glanced at Zehrid, and N'oenar followed her gaze. The tall man's face held a strangely hopeful expression. "You mentioned us?"

"I was warning him. Bounty hunters in the district wouldn't bode him well at all. When I told him your name and the descriptions…." Rohnid shook his head. "It's odd, I know you've not been with them for years, but you should have seen his face. Like I'd given him some sort of naming day gift."

"So he remembered?"

"Yeah. You do resemble him, now that I'm looking for it." Rohnid studied Zehrid and Kerenne. "Both of you do, in different ways. Anyway, he told us to find you-"

"How _did_ you find us?" N'oenar interrupted.

The large man watched him through narrowed eyes for a few heartbeats and then said, "This is where I make some cryptic statement like, 'I've got my ways'."

"Oh."

The man's normally stoic face broke out in a wide grin. "Gullible, aren't you? Sarn found out. That's my business partner. He's been walking the area, asking around, after Jerner came to talk to us. He didn't get too far, but just by chance he saw you all walking into an alleyway, and followed you back to the inn. Good job with that thief, by the way," he said, glancing at Kerenne, who nodded slightly in acknowledgement. 

"Why didn't he just talk to us then?" Ayliana asked, her arms crossed over her chest.

"Too many witnesses," Kerenne said, her eyes not straying from Rohnid. "My brothers, you said you've talked to them. Where are they now?"

"I don't know." Rohnid held up a hand before Kerenne could continue. "It's safer, that way. What I don't know, I can't accidentally let slip, right? Jerner will be back at the shop later, after closing. Come just before the lightning show; Sarn will let you in."

"What about Keruck?" Zehrid adjusted the parcels he still held, and N'oenar moved forward to take them. As he placed them in the nearby cooling unit, he noted the way Zehrid's attention was completely trained on Rohnid, and he wondered if Zehrid even realized he'd taken the packages from him.

"Ah. Well." Hearing the strange tone in the Rohnid's voice, N'oenar looked over his shoulder. For the first time since the man had arrived, he looked decidedly uncomfortable. He shifted from one foot to the other, his tentative stance at odds with his bulky form. "That's a little more difficult. I'll let Jerner tell you about him -- about where he is."

Kerenne and Zehrid shared a long look, and finally Zehrid nodded. "All right, we'll come by this evening."

Rohnid gave them a little bow, his face relaxing into a smile. "I'll leave you all to your privacy, then. Have some errands to run. And… thanks. He's looking forward to it. It's not been an easy time, lately."

"You're telling us," N'oenar muttered. He didn't mean for anyone to overhear, but when Ayliana sent a piercing glance in his direction, he knew she had caught his comment.

---

Unwilling to wait for full dark, Kerenne and Zehrid insisted that they leave as soon as the sun dipped behind the buildings. Ayliana and N'oenar didn't argue – they were curious, also, and rather excited at the prospect of finding another living Jedi. N'oenar, especially, was looking forward to it. Any link to his past, any reminder of what a true Jedi would do, would be welcome. His dreams whispered in his mind, as did his memories – memories of an old woman telling him that anything could be a weapon, and that intent was the key – memories of the writings of a dead madwoman, describing how she learned to blaze.

They arrived at the shop before it closed, and when they entered, a thin man with a smattering of dark hair around his ears – and nowhere else – smiled at them. "Welcome, welcome. Come on in, was expecting you." He winked at Ayliana. "Not so early, mind, but I was expecting you."

"Thanks. It was hard to wait-" Zehrid began, but the thin man waved away his explanations.

"Of course, of course. Well, Rohnid did say you'd be prompt. I'm Sarn, in case you haven't figured that out by now," the man said, winking again. It looked rather like an odd eye twitch, when N'oenar thought about it. "Much as I'd like to chat, you'll look out of place, waiting around out here until after we close. Most of our customers come in and out without lingering. So go on ahead in the back. Quick, now, before a customer comes in," Sarn ordered, waving them to follow him. A narrow gray door opened with a swish after Sarn placed one thin hand over the center plate, and they passed through into a darkened room. As they walked through the opening, N'oenar couldn't help but wonder if this was the same door that Rohnid used; it seemed much too narrow for his bulky form to fit through.

"Wow. I'd never have guessed they had this sort of room back here," Kerenne muttered, glancing around. The room was huge, so large that the light that was activated when the door slid shut didn't even illuminate the far end. N'oenar assumed there were more light fixtures farther back, but for the moment, he was satisfied with inspecting the areas that were lit. 

Strange objects lined the walls – inventory that hadn't yet been readied for sale, or perhaps hadn't yet been identified. It wouldn't surprise him, he mused as he peered at a large fur-covered thing with bits of metal sticking out at random spots. Kerenne walked up beside him. "What do you think that is?"

"I have no idea."

"It's a weapon," Zehrid said, glancing over from the other corner of the room where he was inspecting a small crystalline statue. "From Crientor, out near the Outer Rim."

"Really? How is it used?" N'oenar was curious – he hadn't had a chance to study Crientor, and the weapon was fascinating.

"The natives designed it – there're spines that extend out when those bits of metal hit something soft."

As Zehrid spoke, Ayliana came closer to the Crientorian weapon, tilting her head. "Spines?"

"Poisoned spines. Primitive, but efficient."

"Oh." 

Kerenne grinned. "Good thing you didn't touch it, then." She moved along the wall, looking at the other items, but N'oenar stayed next to Ayliana, frowning. When Zehrid had been explaining the workings of the weapon, he'd felt something. Not a spark, precisely… a hot glow that was covered swiftly, but it skittered across his consciousness, floating on the Force, and he knew…

"He's here," he whispered.

"What?" Ayliana turned away from the weapon, staring up at N'oenar.

"He's here. I can feel it." N'oenar looked around, peering into the darkened corners. Zehrid straightened and stared at the two Padawans.

"You can feel him?"

Ayliana followed N'oenar's gaze, but she sounded unconvinced when she next spoke. "Well, I can't feel anything, and your senses aren't that attuned."

As soon as she finished speaking, a shadow detached from the far wall, and N'oenar had to suppress a smile when her muscles tensed in a startled movement. The man entered the light, and N'oenar needed no introduction to recognize that this was the brother of Kerenne and Zehrid. The same eyes, the same hair… a very dominant genetic code had been passed down from father – or mother – in that family. 

"Jerner?" Zehrid stepped forward.

"Zehrid. I remember… of course you've changed, but… I remember." Jerner stared at his older brother. They were almost the same height, though Zehrid stood a couple of inches taller. Suddenly, Jerner's eyes flicked over to N'oenar, his gaze frankly calculating, and he said, "I wanted to be sure you were who we thought, before I showed myself."

"You look so much alike," Kerenne murmured, eyes shifting from one brother to the other. "I'm sorry, I just haven't seen you two together before – not as adults, at least."

"You were just a toddler when they left, Kerenne."

Jerner smiled. "I remember her, though. Looks different, definitely. But I imagine she'd still steal our toys without a second thought."

N'oenar laughed at that, and Jerner turned in his direction. A spark of recognition lit his face for a moment, then it faded… or was quickly hidden. "You're Master Dannew's Padawan, aren't you?"

"I was." N'oenar stated plainly, his gaze and voice steadier than he would have thought possible at the mention of his old master.

"Was? You were knighte-" Jerner stopped and nodded slowly. "No, you weren't. It was the attack, wasn't it? He was killed?"

"Yes." From the corner of his eye, he could see Ayliana watching him with a worried expression on her face, and it intrigued him. What did she think he was going to do, or say?

"He was a good man."

"Yes."

Just then, the narrow door slid open and Rohnid entered. N'oenar was amused to note that the man did, indeed, have to turn sideways to edge through, but his amusement faded quickly when Jerner spoke again.

"The attack… that's what I've got to talk to you about." Jerner sighed and ran a hand through his hair, further messing the unruly curls. "Keruck was taken soon after it."

"Where?" Zehrid balanced on the balls of his feet, and N'oenar had the sudden impression of a racer, ready to sprint as soon as the starting light was activated.

"Who took him?" Ayliana asked. "It wasn't Imperial troops, was it?" N'oenar looked at her, worried. If he'd been taken by Imperial troops then there was little hope in freeing him, but that didn't mean Ayliana wouldn't want to try. Lysira's voice echoed in his memory: _She has to save people. She wants to save them all._

"The governor of the Danbreen province. He was a negotiator for the local government here. That was his last assignment, at least. It didn't take much for them to track him down – he was, literally, right in the palm of their hands when the order came out to apprehend the Jedi." Jerner's fist clenched, and N'oenar wondered at this unusual show of emotion from a "real" Jedi. It was a comfort, in a way – perhaps he hadn't strayed as far as he'd thought from the basic tenets of the Order. These were unusual times. "He didn't fight back, didn't want to hurt anyone, I think. Anyway, he's being held in the Danbreen center, for now. They were debating what to do with him, but the decision's been made. They're going to contact the Empire, and turn him over." N'oenar felt a familiar sinking feeling in his stomach.

"What?" Kerenne's eyes were wide.

"I have friends on the inside. They're not happy about the situation, but they haven't been able to convince the royal family to do otherwise." Jerner frowned, pacing. "The family thinks it'll show the Emperor their dedication to his cause."

"Cowards. And fools, too," Rohnid said, shaking his head. "But that's not far from normal."

"Right." Jerner reached down and pushed a few objects aside on a bench, then sank down. Immediately, he winced and lifted his left leg, pulling out a small three-pointed dart. "Rohnid, you've got to be careful where you put these things."

"And you've got to be careful where you sit. Aren't you a Jedi? Where's your great sensing Force?" Rohnid strode forward, though, and immediately took the small dart from Jerner. With a wave of his hand, the light in the room increased, and the large man squinted at the dart. He sighed in relief. "You're lucky that wasn't the poisoned one that Sarn found."

"Poisoned? Where did he find-"

Zehrid cleared his throat. "Keruck?"

Jerner winced once again and, rubbing his leg, looked up at Zehrid. "They haven't notified the Empire yet; they're waiting for all the debate to finish-"

"I thought you said they'd already decided," Ayliana broke in. Jerner turned to her, eyes narrowed, but his face quickly cleared when she murmured an apology for interrupting.

"They have. But now they're arguing over just how to draft the announcement, who should have the honor of presenting it, that sort of thing."

"Governments run slow, particularly this one," N'oenar pointed out. "With the way the local governors have been appointed, there's a lot of competition between the provinces and it takes a while for things to be done. A lot of debate, from what I'd read."

"You must've studied Gabris Prime's political system." Jerner tilted his head, studying N'oenar. "It's a local province that has him, the Danbreen province, not the central government. They're all jockeying for favor, which might work to our advantage. I'm waiting to hear back from my Danbreen informant." Jerner stretched his leg out and glared at Rohnid again. "Are you sure that one wasn't one of the poisoned darts?"

"We'll find out soon enough. If it was, you'd have about ten more seconds to breathe." Noticing the stares from the others, Rohnid grinned. "Don't mind us. We're always like this, just ask Sarn. Drives him mad, it does."

Jerner made a show of looking at the chronometer on the wall, then shrugged. "Ten seconds, and still breathing. Guess he was right."

"How do you know each other?"

Jerner grinned at Kerenne. "We share information. He has odd characters visit him here, I've got odd characters I'm looking for. Sometimes they match; it works out well." Rohnid snorted, but didn't contradict him.

Ayliana and N'oenar shared a glance. "Odd characters?"

"I'm a hunter." Jerner lifted his head, looking at N'oenar. "I hunt Dark Jedi. Rogue Jedi. Ones using their powers to take advantage of the local populace, to do harm."

"Oh." N'oenar rubbed his chin, thinking. Something didn't fit right, here, but he wasn't sure if it was Jerner's explanations or a sense of unease stemming from the Force itself. "And Keruck is a negotiator. Did you often get sent on assignment together?"

"No, no. It was just chance, this time, that we're on the same planet. He's been here a lot longer than I have." Jerner stood, stretching out his leg. "My partner… my partner was killed, soon after the announcement was made. Enemies of the Empire. The Jedi. I couldn't believe it, when I heard. I'd've left, then, but Keruck was captured, so I stayed. Been working on a way to get him free for a while, now."

N'oenar wasn't surprised to hear Ayliana speak.

"Maybe we can help."

Jerner glanced at her, nodding, then flicked his eyes to Zehrid. "Any help would be appreciated. I made an oath, long ago, to protect him." 

"You do remember," Zehrid said, a long breath escaping him. "I wasn't sure-"

"I remember. The Jedi bond is strong, but blood is, also. And an oath is stronger still."

Ayliana was frowning, now. "Oath?"

"In our family, the elder children make oaths to protect the younger ones. It's tradition." Kerenne raised an eyebrow when Ayliana's frown deepened.

"It doesn't interfere with the Jedi Code, Padawan." Jerner's glance at Ayliana was almost dismissive, and N'oenar wondered at it. "We are to serve and _protect_, after all. And my oath was made before the Jedi picked us out to be trained."

"I'm sorry, I wasn't questioning-"

"It doesn't matter." Jerner turned to Kerenne and Zehrid. "I know this is unusual. Jedi don't normally interact with family after joining the Order, and it's been years since you've seen-"

"It doesn't matter," Zehrid said, mimicking his brother's words. "Blood is strong. And I remember, too, my oath."

"I didn't have an oath, but I'll do whatever it takes to help Keruck. And you," Kerenne stated. Once again, N'oenar felt that biting envy. Blood. Family. A bond greater than that of the Jedi, a bond that would outlast even such a tragedy as the Jedi Order had endured.

Then he looked at Ayliana, and felt an affection flood him. A bond that would outlast even such a tragedy… they had that, he realized. A bond that had not only outlasted the tragedy, but grown as a result of it. Ayliana was his sister, in all but blood. And, at the thought, he felt himself calm. The feeling of peace was so foreign to him that he realized just how long it had been since he'd meditated. _Successfully_ meditated. Perhaps, that evening, he could ask Ayliana to help him achieve that state of oneness with the Force. 

Jerner nodded. "Thanks, all of you." He looked at Rohnid, then, and they seemed to share some sort of unspoken communication because the large man soon nodded and suggested they leave the family members alone for a while.

"Of course," Ayliana said, bowing slightly. "We'll wait out front for you." N'oenar copied her gesture and then followed Rohnid and Ayliana back to the front of the shop. It was closed already - the lights dimmed and the windows blocked.

"We're closed," Sarn called out in a sing-song voice, and N'oenar smiled at the man's antics. "I'll add it all up, Rohnid, you just relax and visit with your friends there."

"Add it all up, and pocket a bit, too, no doubt."

"But of course! I deserve it – I actually got someone to buy that dreadful sculpture of the royal family that's been here for months." Sarn winked at them. Or his eye twitched. It was hard for N'oenar to decide. "Looked nothing like them. Well, maybe if the queen had two heads…."

"It was supposed to symbolize her two sides-"

"Right." Sarn shook his head. "That's why I do most of the purchasing, now."

"Eh, I was being nice – it was part of a lot," Rohnid said. "We got some good things from that purchase, don't you forget."

Sarn chuckled and bent over the counter, pulling out a couple of datapads and getting to work. 

"I'm glad you folks have come." Rohnid shook his head, looking at the closed door, and his voice sounded distracted. "Since the attacks, Jerner's been… different. More closed, more… I don't know. Just something off. But he seems to be back, now."

"You've known him for a while, then?" N'oenar asked. From the corner of his eye, he saw Sarn glance up from his calculations.

"He's been here off and on, he and his partner." Rohnid looked at the corner, towards the lightsaber that had caught N'oenar's eye on their first visit. A great sigh left the man, and N'oenar wondered just whose lightsaber it was. "Now, Keruck I've known longer. He's been assigned here for a year or so, leaves on occasion, but generally sticks around. Different provinces, depending on who's causing trouble at the time. I asked him why he kept getting stuck here, but he claimed he liked it. Knew people, felt comfortable, that sort of thing."

"I'm surprised he was allowed to remain in one place for so long, particularly with the war." As Ayliana spoke, N'oenar moved over to the wall shelves, inspecting the small display of communication devices from various planets.

"That's what Keruck said. Always worried he'd be called away during some tricky negotiations. He's helped, I'll grant you that. Things are a lot smoother now between the governors and such."

Something finally clicked in N'oenar's head, and he replaced the crystal-encrusted device he had been examining and turned to Rohnid. "Wait a minute… Keruck Kharr! He's the one that's helped stabilize things here, then?" When he noted Ayliana's curious look, he shrugged. "I just studied the government structure, not any of the details of how it was stabilized. I just assumed he'd come after it was all settled, but if he's the one who helped to bring the factions to peace, well, that's impressive, particularly for a Knight." 

"It was something else, it really was." Rohnid blinked rapidly and looked away. "He doesn't deserve the way he's been treated, after all he's done for them. Quick to turn on a friend, those governors are. It's embarrassing."

"It happens everywhere. It's just politics," N'oenar said, trying to make his voice sound soothing.

"That's what I keep trying to tell him," Sarn said dryly just as the narrow door slid open. When Kerenne stalked through, she looked as if she was searching for someone to strike out at. Keruck's capture had evidently affected her deeply. N'oenar's gaze shifted to Rohnid, then Ayliana, and he knew it had affected all of them, for one reason or another.

After some conversation, they decided to return to the inn until Jerner could contact his informant. He claimed it would be simpler to base his communications from there rather than the rear of a closed shop, which made sense to N'oenar. Sarn returned to his home in the nearby neighborhood – his wife was, he explained, unimpressed with the number of days he'd already been gone that month – and instructed them to meet him in the morning at the shop.

They made their way through the streets just as the lightning show was beginning, the gathering crowds helping to mask their movements. Jerner and Keruck were identical twins, which added some danger to openly moving about the streets. From what Jerner and Rohnid said, there was a rather distinguishing scar that Keruck bore on one cheek – that would be enough to prove his identity, but it would also bring too much attention to them all.

Once back at the inn, they filled Jerner and Rohnid in on what they'd seen at the Jedi Temple, and how they'd escaped the destruction. In unspoken agreement, Ayliana and N'oenar avoided mentioning Anakin Skywalker, and his part in the fall of the Jedi Order – some things were too difficult, still, to speak of. And who would believe two Padawans that claimed the Hero with No Fear, the Chosen One, had been at the head of the attacking clone army? It wasn't an easy discussion, but Jerner and Rohnid seemed to understand, and kept their questions to a minimum. Jerner did ask about other survivors, but when Kerenne shook her head, he subsided.

When the conversation turned to other topics, N'oenar leaned over and asked Ayliana if she planned on meditating. She shook her head at first, then caught sight of his face and paused. "Yes, actually, that would probably be a good idea. You've still been having difficulty…."

He nodded, reluctant to discuss it with Jerner watching them so closely. It was a common enough difficulty with trainees, or so his master had claimed, but N'oenar thought it would be best not to emphasize their status as Padawans in front of the Jedi Knight.

They made their way to their room and settled on her bed, facing each other with knees almost touching. He took a deep breath, then let it out, smiling nervously when Ayliana asked, "What barrier have you been hitting, N'oenar?"

"I have a hard time, especially now, making my mind slow." He shook his head. "I can do it in short bursts, but not long enough to really reach oneness."

"It doesn't need to slow. Just push the thoughts to the side, let them run as they will on another level, while your consciousness floats."

He frowned. That wasn't exactly the way Master Dannew had explained it, but he supposed everyone must have their own way to reach oneness with the Force. With a nod, he closed his eyes.

His mind continued to skitter and move, but Ayliana's steady breathing eventually calmed him, bringing his thoughts into order. Each breath in began a thought, each breath out punctuated it. One thought at a time, not the jumble that he was accustomed to when he attempted to meditate. One thought began, and then that thought ended, and another began. One breath in, and one breath out. Then, as he narrowed his mind to simply concentrate on the breathing, the mechanics of opening his lungs and pulling in air, thought was pushed aside and soon left altogether. 

For the first time outside of dream, he truly _let go_, and allowed the Force to take him where it willed. A haze, red swirled with black, overtook his awareness and he watched it calmly, admiring the ebb and flow of the colors. For time immeasurable he watched it, became one with it, drifted with it. Then a bright light seemed to shine from behind the haze, and that's when he heard his Master's voice, floating on the surface of his consciousness: _One who exists in the light alone will only see light. One who exists in the darkness alone will only see dark. But one who exists in both will see all._

With a gasp, his eyes sprang open and he stared at Ayliana. She was watching him, her eyes steady and calm as she stated, "A vision." It was not a question.

He nodded, unable to speak.

"I felt it. The disturbance, the ripple in the Force. It was real."

N'oenar swallowed. "I thought… yes." The calmness he'd achieved through meditation hadn't left him completely, but it had lessened somewhat. 

"Can you tell me?"

"I…" He hesitated, his voice trailing off, and she held out one hand, palm up.

"Don't. If it does not bring you comfort to speak of it, then keep it close. When you're ready, you'll tell me." Her voice was wise, and so like his Master's in tone and delivery that he closed his eyes for a moment, savoring the feel.

"Thank you, Ayliana."

Unable to sleep yet, they both left the room. Ayliana joined Zehrid, Rohnid, and Kerenne for a game that consisted of metallic pyramids and squares that Rohnid had brought from the oddities shop. N'oenar begged off, not really in the mood to learn the rules of a new game at the moment, and headed outside to the lake. To think.

But someone was already there.

Even through the shadow, he knew it was Jerner. There was a certain quality to the man's signature in the Force that he couldn't quite explain. He wondered if it was simply his own senses becoming more attuned, or if there was another reason.

"I hope I'm not disturbing you," he said softly as he approached. Jerner shook his head, not looking away from the lake.

"Not at all. Have a seat."

N'oenar settled next to the other man, noting absently that he looked rather like Zehrid, particularly in the dim light. "Have you heard from your informant?"

"Not yet, but it's not time. I'm leaving later to make contact." Jerner glanced over at him, then back at the lake. "Your presence makes it different, now. There are more options than there were before."

"I imagine so." His fingers tugged at the grass absently, and when a few blades snapped off in his hand he looked down, rolling them between his fingers. "How did you hide so well, earlier? I was going to ask Ayliana, but-"

"Why ask her? _She_ wasn't the one that sensed me there."

N'oenar nodded, still staring at the grass. In the daylight, it would be a vivid greenish-blue, one side lighter than the other. But now, in the dark, it appeared almost black against his pale skin – a stark contrast. "That was… that was a little surprising, actually. She's usually much more adept at sensing things than I am."

"You could sense me, N'oenar, because you share some of what I have come to learn. I let my shroud down, for a moment, in your presence, because I thought it would be safe enough with the basic veil in place."

N'oenar didn't dare to breathe. _I let my shroud down._ The shroud. What did Jerner know? Or was it another of a string of coincidences? Turning his head slowly, he looked at the man who so resembled Zehrid, except for the lack of laugh lines beside his eyes. The absence of those lines suddenly seemed more significant.

"Shroud?" He kept his voice neutral, despite the manic workings of his mind. 

"You'll learn. In time, you'll learn. If you're willing to look beyond your standard teachings, that is." Then Jerner stood, brushing off his pants.

"Beyond the… the standard teachings," N'oenar said slowly. He swallowed, his dry throat seeming to stick closed for a moment afterwards. "Do you mean-"

"Yes." Jerner stared out at the lake for a moment. "The right person can use both sides of the Force, can weave them together into a more powerful whole." 

"You've-"

"Some." Jerner turned and looked down at him through narrowed eyes. "And don't pretend to be that shocked. You sensed me, even under the veil of the dark side."

N'oenar froze. "What does that mean?" 

"The dark side is hard to see. You heard Yoda say that often enough, right?" Jerner smiled. "That's the veil. But you sensed it, you saw through it. So…"

Jerner raised an eyebrow, waiting for a response, but N'oenar just stared up at him. He recalled, so clearly, that feeling of _power_ flooding him as he let his anger and fear loose while fighting the Dark Jedi on Jabiim.

Jerner finally broke the silence. "You've felt it. Probably haven't used it, or you would've been certain, you would've been able to point me out without a thought."

The words poured from his lips before he could even think to stop them. "The Dark Jedi. When I attacked her, I… I was angry… I felt it… a surge… I reached for it, reached for that power, but then I stopped. I couldn't…."

"You didn't just feel it, you tried to _use_ it. It's powerful, isn't it?" Jerner sucked in a breath, his face almost ecstatic, and for some reason N'oenar was drawn to that overt display of emotion. He felt it again, his memory clearer than ever before – he opened himself to the Force, and saw that rush of power, the purest heat, waiting to do his bidding. He could do anything… anything….

He turned shining eyes towards the Jedi Knight. "Powerful. Yes…" 

"Very powerful. You should learn more, before you try to use it again."

"How can I learn more?" As soon as the words were out, his former Master's voice echoed in his mind: _Ancient Roon will help you._. N'oenar frowned, reason returning as that cloud of euphoria passed. An image of himself holding a red lightsaber drifted across his memory, and he shook his head violently. "No! I can't use it; it was a mistake, what happened. What almost happened."

"A mistake?" Jerner smirked. "That's what I thought, too, in the beginning. But I learned… both sides can be used. Both sides were _meant_ to be used; otherwise, why do both exist?"

N'oenar shook his head and looked away, ostensibly studying the reflection of the three moons off the lake, though he'd seen it a number of times already. What Jerner had said made sense, even if it didn't mesh with what he'd been taught before: the path to the dark side, riddled with danger, impossible to turn away from once it was begun. But would the Force really be that unforgiving? If the dark side and light side were truly two parts of one whole, then it made no sense for it to be impossible to turn away from the dark side, once used. Then again, why would the Masters have all warned against it? It was too dangerous – the risk too great, the payoff too small. "I can't use it."

"Not before you learn more. And who knows? I might even be the one to teach you."

"No. No, I can't…" But it was tempting. Very tempting.

"Well. It's your choice, of course." Jerner looked at him, almost disappointed, then shrugged and walked off, leaving him alone beside the water. Sighing, N'oenar stared after him, his hand going without thought to his pocket, fingering the braid coiled within. He wondered why he wasn't more shocked to learn that Jerner had touched the dark side, had used it, even. Turning back to the lake, he allowed himself to be lulled by the lightning. Red and blue and purple, crossing each other with abandon, blending together in his mind until they were all the same color.

_You're not a Jedi._

The veil. 

_Hard to see, the dark side is._

The shroud.

_Hide. **Live**_.


	15. Chapter 14

**A/N: **If anyone is interested, I posted a short one-shot prequel of sorts to this story – it's called "The True Challenge". I forgot to mention it here when I posted it!

Many thanks, as always, to my lovely beta Buttercup for all of her help. And thanks to everyone who's reading and reviewing – I really appreciate it and it definitely helps spur the muse along :).

_**Severing the Past**_

WendyNat

Chapter 14  
-------------  
_Three chairs remained in the Jedi Council chamber, just as in N'oenar's last dream of this place. However, this time, two of the chairs stood close together, their arms touching, while the other sat several handspans away. N'oenar frowned at the solo chair, and moved closer to it, running his fingertip along its top edge._

"Whose chair was this?" he asked, not turning. N'oenar sensed Master Dannew when he appeared, their bond easily crossing the boundary of dream.

"You know the answer to that." Master Dannew walked forward, but didn't enter N'oenar's line of sight. "He exists in both."

"What?"

"Look. And learn."

N'oenar lifted his head and stared as the roiling darkness outside the Temple walls suddenly burst through the windows… but only on one side of the room. It flooded in, faster than he could react, until it covered half of the Council chamber. There was a stark line of demarcation, centered on the chair that he faced. Centered on him_. One half in darkness, the other in light. He lifted his left hand, staring at it through the dark cloud as he reached his other hand in to his pocket to touch the braid coiled within._

"He exists in both light and dark, though his feet are rooted in the dark for now."

Anakin. Anakin Skywalker. This was **his** chair.__

"Exists in light and dark…. Is that what I must do?" It sounded disturbingly like what Jerner had told him.

"No - it is difficult, draining, to exist for long in both. That balance is hard to maintain and, like a street acrobat, you must eventually jump from that high rope to safety or risk falling into endless darkness. You must shift, from light to both and then back to light again." 

N'oenar shook his head, remembering the feel of power, delicious power… and he hadn't even truly used it yet. Could he give that power up, if he became accustomed to drawing on it? Maybe that was the true danger. "I can't, Master. It's… it's too much to ask."

"It is what must be done, to protect that which is most precious."

Without warning, a thread of anger pushed its way past his control. "Why are you always so cryptic? Why not just say straight out what's needed, what I'm supposed to do? What's supposed to be protected? What birds? Is the shroud the same as what Jerner was talking about? You speak a lot, but you don't say_ anything!"_

Master Dannew was silent, and N'oenar turned, the anger leaving him as suddenly as it had appeared when his eyes fell on the line between light and shadow that cut through the center of the room. That had_ cut through the center of the room; now, it was a few feet to the right, covering the chair completely in darkness. Covering…._

Jerking, he fell back a step, and stared at the line, cold running through him at the symbolic truth. He was now on the other side of the line, while Master Dannew still stood in the light.

Then, somehow, he was once again on the other side of the line. He shook his head, dizzy from the shifting, and turned away from his master, bringing one hand to his forehead. It was too much. Too….

"You know what you must do. The Force shall guide you, my padawan. Fear has its place, but do not let it consume you." Master Dannew's hands fell on his shoulders and the darkness dissipated, the line growing indistinct until it vanished altogether. "My padawan, you remain."

A bright light shone outside the Temple windows, now, and it grew brighter and brighter until N'oenar was forced to raise an arm to shield his eyes. Then the floor shifted under him, and he was floating, flying, speeding past things best left unseen. Through it all, Master Dannew's hands remained on his shoulders, grounding him.

When the spinning and shifting finally stopped, he still kept his eyes closed. Master Dannew squeezed his shoulder, and said in a low voice, "The blood of the Chosen One will prove true, in time, but until the great darkness is lifted, Vader represents great danger to you. To any Jedi. Be wary." 

"Vader?"

"Watch."

Unable to resist the command, even had he wished to, N'oenar opened his eyes. And gasped.

On a flat metal table lay Anakin Skywalker, broken and battered, skin peeling like burnt bark from the underlying muscle. The burns were horrible, and N'oenar had no idea how he had survived this long… unless it was by some dark power, some dark will. Could the dark side preserve life, extend it in some unnatural way?

As he watched the creation of the figure known as Darth Vader, as he watched limbs being attached and droids adding electronic receptors and other items he couldn't identify, he marveled at the technology that had helped preserve this man's life. But what life could it be, to be trapped in a case of armor, to see nothing but a mechanized view of the world around? To have all your senses, sight, touch, smell, be reduced to nothing more than electronic impulses from some outside source?

He shivered, and the pressure on his shoulder increased - a welcome weight, a comforting weight. How had this happened? How had the Chosen One fallen so far? How?

Then the figure rose, the flat table tilting until he stood upright. The mask was shining black, crisp reflections of the lights above gleaming on its surface. So clean. So unnaturally perfect.__

A voice, one completely unlike Anakin Skywalker's, one completely unlike the harsh screaming he'd heard in his last vision of this room, spoke from the dark helm. "Where is Padme? Is she safe? Is she… all right?"

N'oenar gasped as the Emperor answered Darth Vader. Padme! Padme, but…._ He frowned as the pieces began to slide into place, as he heard the Emperor's reedy voice say, "It seems, in your anger, you killed her."_

From behind him, his master spoke, and somehow he was able to hear both Vader's anguished reaction and his master's voice simultaneously. "The dark side does not always speak truth, though it pretends to, and the threat of loss can be more powerful than loss itself. He blazed at the thought, grasped at that which he was told would protect him from that loss, and this is the result."

The figure began to struggle and massive power filled the room, bottles and fixtures collapsing upon themselves, bursting and exploding, droids shattering - it was the dark side, and wielded with such strength that he could taste it on his tongue. He had never experienced anything like it, never witnessed such power, and it drew him in even as the fear grew in his chest.

N'oenar turned, staring at his master as a terrible howl came from the mask. "And you want me to try to do this? To exist in both? You can't mean me to do this, Master. You can't."

"No, not this." Master Dannew touched his cheek gently. "Never this. Remember Vaapad, remember. It can be done, but do not believe the lies of the dark side. **Do not blaze.**"

---

The next morning, N'oenar rose early and made sure not to wake Ayliana as he dressed and readied himself for the day. When he walked out into the main room he stopped, blinking. Rohnid lay on the pull-out pallet, his mouth hanging open, the loudest snores N'oenar had ever heard rumbling from his throat. He was surprised the ceiling tiles weren't shaking loose.

With a grin, he shook his head and then continued past, wondering where Jerner was. As he came close to Kerenne and Zehrid's door, he overheard his name and he stopped, feeling guilty even as he did so. But then the guilt faded as he heard more.

"No, that's not an option."

"It's what you agreed to, when this all began, Kerenne. When we first heard from Jerner."

"I know, but… it's changed."

"Why? Because of him?"

"Not just him. Them. They're… I think it's important, what they need to do."

"But Jerner-"

"Stop it, Zehrid. I refuse to do it."

"Maybe there's another answer. It could be feigned, then we could-" Zehrid's voice lowered and, though N'oenar strained, he was unable to hear his words. Kerenne's voice came, then, low and worried.

"What if we couldn't?"

"It's worth the risk."

"Not to me." Kerenne's voice grew louder with each word and he suddenly realized she might be leaving the room.

He backed away from the door and headed out to the lake, his mind replaying their words over and over again in his mind. An endless loop of brother and sister speaking, arguing. He was only outside for a few minutes before he heard Kerenne's voice behind him.

She sat down beside him and stared out at the lake. "We really lucked into this inn."

N'oenar smiled, pushing the memory of the overheard argument to the back of his mind. "Yeah. At least we've gotten some luck, right?" The water rippled as the wind picked up, small waves sparkling in the early morning sun. He made a mental note that, before they left this planet, he would travel out to the crystal mountains that they'd passed on the way here and watch the sun rise. "Then again, maybe it wasn't really lucky. Ayliana sensed the Rodian would be the driver to use. She's always been able to sense things like that, even as a youngling, from what I've heard."

"I hope her senses are as attuned when it comes to freeing Keruck."

"Ayliana will do whatever it takes to help free your brother. We both will."

"I know _you_ will." She smiled faintly and looked over at him. "You really care about helping people."

"So does Ayliana. She wants to save people. She wants to save them all…" He swallowed hard when he realized that he had just quoted Lysira. He missed her, suddenly, missed her cheerful nature and too-open conversation, and he wondered if he'd ever see her again. At the moment, it didn't seem likely. "Ayliana does care."

"No. Not really, I don't think. You want to save people because it's your nature. She wants to do it because it's her mission. You care for the person; she cares for the commands of the Order."

"She cares for the person, too."

"Not the same way you do." Kerenne's hand whipped out faster than his eyes could follow, tossing a rock into the lake. It sunk quickly, leaving surprisingly few ripples in the surface. "Not the same way." 

"You're wrong about her," he stated plainly. It was a statement of fact, not a work of persuasion, and that seemed to take Kerenne by surprise.

Kerenne looked at him, then nodded slowly. "I might be. It wouldn't be the first time I was wrong about someone." She sighed, a sound of surrender, and lowered her head. "Definitely not the first time."

Her voice sounded so empty, so _lost_, that he didn't know how to react. Comforting someone wasn't really in his realm of experience, particularly someone that seemed completely sure of herself on all other occasions. He felt again the great void that he'd been subject to, before the attack on the Temple, before he'd met all of these 'regular' people. Normal social interactions, normal emotional responses… all suppressed, and he'd had little experience outside the Temple walls to learn more. Not that the Jedi were unemotional completely – they were still individual beings, after all – but such an emphasis was placed on control that the smallest acts were seen as great testaments of regard. Acts so subtle as to go completely unnoticed by most normal people.

The ways others reacted had always fascinated him as an academic subject of sociology. But now, he must become one of the 'others', and so he _needed_ to learn. Though he had no idea what to say, he followed his instincts and put an arm around her. She immediately buried her head in his shoulder and he sighed, relieved that he'd started off all right. _Maybe even more than just 'all right',_ he amended as he brought a tentative hand to her hair. He stroked it slowly, feeling her settle even more. It was surprising, sometimes, how attuned he was to her and her emotions. A side effect of friendship, perhaps, or just living in close quarters.

He relaxed, the action of comforting someone else actually helping to calm him in return. As he continued to stroke her hair, he stared out at the lake and wondered who she had been talking about. Who she had been wrong about previously. So far, he thought his senses had been fairly close to the mark regarding the people he'd met – with one glaring exception: Anakin Skywalker. He had not only trusted, but looked up to and desired to emulate the Jedi Knight that had been called the Chosen One. Anakin had been the perfect Jedi, an example of what a Jedi _should_ be: friendly, fair, strong, skilled, and with a natural ability that allowed him to not only catch up to his peers but surpass them, even with far fewer years of training.

Now, he was a machine hybrid, for lack of a better word. How much of Anakin Skywalker _was_ left? He had shone so brightly, those times N'oenar saw him in the Jedi Temple. So brightly… and now…. The images of his dream threatened to overwhelm him and he tightened his arm around Kerenne, her warmth grounding him in the _now_. 

"We've all been wrong about someone before, Kerenne. Even those of us who shouldn't be so easily fooled."

---

The streets were almost empty when they left the inn a short time later.

"I don't know why you're still yawning," Jerner stated, his hooded head turning in Rohnid's direction. "You kept everyone else awake with that snoring."

"I did?" Rohnid tried to look surprised, but he failed. N'oenar was certain the man had heard that complaint before – many times before.

"Well, I slept through it," N'oenar commented. "Of course, I was in another room." He leaned his head back as they walked, enjoying the way his skin was bathed in warmth when they passed by gaps in the buildings – gaps large enough to let the sun peek through.

Most of them were headed to Rohnid's shop, though Rohnid himself was going to make a side trip to speak with a friend of his from the Danbreen province's governmental circle. They had all pestered Jerner when he returned that morning, but he'd refused to say anything until they were all together. And, as Jerner had stated that morning, he still wanted to think things over. N'oenar had felt an odd ripple in the Force when the man said that, and he'd looked over only to see Jerner's eyes fixed on him. It was an odd sensation.

He smiled slightly, remembering Ayliana's muttered comment at Jerner's statement. _At least we'll have a chance to practice that patience that the Masters always went on about._

When they arrived at the shop, Sarn was still setting up for the day. The short man smiled widely and winked as he let them in. N'oenar was more convinced than ever that the winking was some sort of nervous twitch, and resolved to ask Kerenne and Ayliana their thoughts the next time they were alone. 

The internal debate over wink-versus-twitch helped to occupy his mind and keep the anticipation from eating at him. He was impressed with the patience Sarn showed when Jerner told him he wanted to wait until Rohnid returned.

"I'll hear it all soon enough, I'm sure. In the meantime, you'd best get to the back room before we have any customers passing by. That face of yours is distinctive enough, even without the scar." Sarn winked as he lifted a box to the top of the counter and began pulling items out to label. "And that hood is just a little conspicuous indoors."

"You're right, as always, Sarn." Jerner gave a little bow and then, grinning, slid through the narrow doorway. Zehrid followed him, as did Ayliana, but N'oenar held back. The new pieces Sarn was putting out were fascinating, and he was interested to see how the labeling was done. Kerenne also seemed to be fascinated by the items in the shop – she stood on the far side of the room, occupied with a bright blue logic puzzle.

He tilted his head, trying to see the label that Sarn was placing on one small green enameled box. Something didn't seem right… then he realized that the "Brown Enameled Trinket Box from Utapau" was actually bright green. "Um, Sarn? That's not brown, it's green."

"Everyone's a critic," Sarn said, clicking his tongue. The short man smiled, though, and winked as he corrected the label. When N'oenar gave him a questioning look, he explained, "A touch of color blindness – it runs in the family. My nephew has it, also, but luckily my niece was able to avoid it. It skips the females, most of the time."

"Oh. That must be a little bit of a pain when you're looking for unusual items."

"Very true. A lot of cases, an item is only unusual because it's a certain color. A rare green crystal here on Gabris Prime will fetch a goodly amount… but they look just like the red crystals to me. Well, unless the sun's hitting the reds straight on – they're bright enough then that I can tell the difference."

N'oenar grinned, leaning against the counter. "I was just thinking this morning that I'd like to see the sun rise near those crystal mountains we passed on the way from the spaceport."

"Ah, yes, that is a sight indeed. It's the one advantage to having to housesit for my sister and her family on occasion – they're out in the Hroten province, so I have to pass some of the smaller hills to get to their place. Just breathtaking." Sarn looked up at N'oenar. "I wouldn't live anywhere else. I've seen a good number of planets in a good number of systems, and there's not a single one I'd rather call home."

"I don't blame you. From what I've seen so far, I rather like Gabris Prime."

Across the room, Kerenne cursed again and shook the blue puzzle, her brows furrowed as she brought it closer to her eyes. N'oenar chuckled and turned back to Sarn. He, too, was watching Kerenne with amusement. "She'll figure it out," he murmured, and Sarn nodded.

"I've no doubt of it. She's a bright one." He glanced at N'oenar, one eyebrow lifted slightly. "Knows what she wants. And she seems to be one that gets what she wants, more often than not."

"Probably." N'oenar looked over at Kerenne, noting that she had overcome her momentary difficulty and was now moving the puzzle pieces quickly, with some new goal in mind.

Sarn pulled another item out from underneath the counter, drawing N'oenar's attention. He lifted his eyebrows at the small rock. "What's that? It just looks like a regular rock."

"Pick it up."

With a shrug, he reached out and grabbed it – gingerly, in case it was something like that furry thing in the back room – and then gasped when a bright light shone from its depths. He felt Kerenne approach behind him and turned so that she could see the stone. "It's not even warm!"

"That's pretty neat. Where did you find it?" She stepped closer to N'oenar, peering at the rock.

"Now, now, I can't be giving out all of my secrets, can I? With my luck, you'd start your own shop and corner the market on these firerocks." 

N'oenar handed it to her and turned back to Sarn. "We wouldn't corner the market on these. I think Kerenne is more partial to those logic puzzles." She snorted.

N'oenar smiled slightly, then glanced around at the walls again, admiring the variety of weaponry from many cultures, and what Sarn said reminded him of what he'd considered that first day they had come across Rohnid's Rarities - if he had his choice, a shop like this might be an interesting way to make a living. It was a strange thought, to have _choice._ A Jedi took on assignments that befitted his or her talents, as the Council determined. But now, with the Jedi Order gone, he supposed he _did_ have a choice, as did Ayliana. What _would_ they do, once all of this was over?

"You know," he said, attempting to sound casual, "it's kind of strange that you said that, Sarn. About starting a shop. I've been thinking about what to do, now… once all this is over, of course." Sarn was studying him closely, an appraising look. "I just thought working in a shop like this would be pretty interesting." Kerenne's head shot up at that, but he kept his eyes fixed on Sarn.

"Oh, it's definitely interesting, no doubt about that. And traveling about searching for new oddities is even more interesting." Sarn smiled. "My wife's not too keen on it, but I think it's just an act. She's probably glad to be rid of me now and then."

N'oenar laughed, and Sarn winked at him. That time, it was definitely a wink, not a twitch. Then that appraising look came once again.

"Maybe when this is all over, you can try your hand in the shop. I'm sure Rohnid wouldn't argue-"

"Even if he did," Kerenne said, smirking, "you'd win."

"Perceptive young lady. Now, you two might want to head into the back room, also, before I open for the day."

With a grin, Kerenne winked at Sarn and sauntered to the narrow door, slipping through gracefully. N'oenar watched her go, then turned back to see Sarn looking at him with an amused expression. Blushing, he mumbled something about the labels – he didn't know what – and followed her.

The room was completely lit this time, and he scanned the rear walls, disappointed to see that the larger items were draped with some sort of dust covers.

Zehrid turned to N'oenar and Kerenne. "You just missed it – Ayliana and Jerner were showing off some moves."

N'oenar lifted an eyebrow and Ayliana shrugged. "He has some practice blades." She sounded as if she was still out of breath, and he guessed they'd enjoyed a rather heated bout.

"How about it, N'oenar? Care to try your hand?" Jerner grinned at him, brandishing a thin wooden practice saber. 

"Why not?" With a smile, N'oenar took the wooden saber and lifted it, giving it a few swipes to determine the balance and weight. Jerner did the same, and then they both got into position.

Before they could begin, the door opened and Rohnid slid through. N'oenar lowered his practice saber.

"No, just a minute, Rohnid. N'oenar and I are going to do one round." Jerner winked at him when Rohnid nodded. "Just one quick round. I'll let you down easy, don't worry."

N'oenar steadied the practice saber, wishing for a moment he could use his real saber - but it was too dangerous. He could, perhaps, use real sabers with Ayliana; they knew each other's patterns well, and could anticipate a feint or lunge accurately enough to avoid hitting the other. Jerner, though, was like a blank slate. Or a clouded slate, he mused as the other man began his attack.

They parried and blocked and swung for a few minutes, twisting and turning, free to try out new techniques with the safety of the practice blades. The clacking noise became sharper and sharper as they used more force in their attacks, and N'oenar began to realize that Jerner was holding back. Not much, but enough to irritate him. Of course, it made sense - Jerner was a full Jedi Knight, with years more training and definitely more practice - but still it irritated him. He wanted to really test himself, not just do calisthenics.

"Stop it." He breathed. "You're holding back too much."

"Really?" Jerner's smile grew almost feral. "All right, then." With new vigor, Jerner's blade swung around, almost striking him before he could deflect it. It wasn't a pretty move, but it was effective, and Jerner had to take a moment to bring his blade back into a defensive position to keep N'oenar's still-moving blade from striking him. Then, Jerner's face grew darker, hardened in some odd way, and N'oenar _felt_ it happen. A surge from what he now knew was the dark side of the Force - he _felt_ it in the other man, just as he felt the answering surge in his own link to the Force.

The will of the Force made itself known.

His skin tingled, fire rippling over his body as he sucked in a breath and tightened his grip on his saber. He could do anything… anything….

Flooded with a renewed energy, he leapt up and attacked, bringing his saber around to meet the other, feinting and spinning and making use of the dark power that was so readily available to him. Jerner backed away, concentrating just on defense now, and N'oenar felt a rush of satisfaction. _This_ was the will of the Force, and who was he to deny it? It did not ask for coaxing or meditation or practice or effort - it was there for the taking, to any who had the courage….

He froze.

Jerner was against the wall, and everyone in the room had stopped to watch the heated duel. Shock flashed like cold water over his head and he lowered the practice saber, his eyes meeting Jerner's as the other man pushed away from the dark stone. He knew without question that he'd prodded this along, had feigned defeat in order to let N'oenar feel that power, that control, that darkness…

"Are you sure?" Jerner stepped forward, his voice low. "Are you sure you won't learn? I could teach you so much. You felt it again, I know you did. It's close… very close. Ready for you to taste."

N'oenar shivered, the sweat covering his chest chilling in the cool air. Ayliana entered his line of sight and he felt a surge of something else – something that straightened his back and strengthened his resolve. The Keeper of the Faith. His Faith. The will of the Force. How did they go together? One thing he knew - this wasn't right. 

"No, I can't. It's…" N'oenar looked away, dropping the saber. It clattered on the hard floor, the sound loud in his ears. "It's too close. I can't. I won't."

"I see." Jerner stared at him without speaking for long moments and he stared back, his heart hammering in his ears. Finally, Jerner nodded sharply. "Get the others. We need to discuss the plan."

N'oenar nodded, picking up the practice saber, and as he did so he saw Rohnid watching him closely. It was a measuring look, one laced with something akin to fear, and N'oenar wondered just how much the man knew – or sensed – of the workings of the Force.

---

"Think about it. What would give them more glory than to offer two Jedi instead of one to the royal family, to the Emperor?" Jerner sat on an overturned crate, leaning an elbow on one knee. He'd just finished telling them the short version of his conversation with his contact.

"We're not Jedi," N'oenar pointed out.

"Close enough, for their purposes." Jerner smiled. "Don't worry – we're not really going to trade you two for him. We'll just do the trade and then we'll be ready at the Hroten province compound to free you."

"I don't like it." Kerenne's voice was flat, uncompromising.

"What?" Jerner turned to her, his eyes narrowed as he studied her.

"It's too risky. What if we can't free them, afterwards?"

"We'll be able to." Jerner's solid surety should have been reassuring, but N'oenar still felt a vague misgiving when he looked at man.

"If you can, then why haven't you freed Keruck?"

Jerner frowned. "Because I don't know where he's being kept. The Danbreen province has much better security than the Hroten province does."

"I see." Ayliana and N'oenar shared a glance, and he wondered what she thought of this whole plan. It seemed like a good idea, the only idea.

"Trust me."

Rohnid shook his head. "That's a little much, Jerner. I'd never trust someone that told me to trust him."

Sarn laughed, but he agreed. "Rohnid has a point. Give them the beacons."

"Beacons?"

"Yes, since Sarn and Rohnid have stolen my thunder, I'll go ahead and show you. This is the other reason I haven't been able to go in to free Keruck - he wasn't wearing one of these." With two flicks of his wrist, he tossed two small flexible squares at the padawans. "Virtually untraceable."

Ayliana turned it over, studying it closely. "Homing beacons."

"Exactly." Jerner stood and began to pace, his face tight with concentration. "Once they have you in the compound, it'll take them a few days to negotiate with the royal family. They'll want to milk the embarrassment to the Danbreen province as much as they can. We'll have plenty of time to find you two and get you out of there." 

Kerenne frowned. "I don't like it. I didn't like it when you first told us about it yesterday. And I still don't like it now."

"Do you have a better idea?"

"How about… what if we got them out before they were taken to the compound?" Everyone turned to look at Rohnid, and the large man shrugged uncomfortably. He shrugged. "Well, it makes sense."

"It does, actually," Jerner stated. "One of the few times, in fact, that I think I've heard you making sense!"

"Oh, quiet, Jerner."

Jerner held up his hands. "Just an observation."

Ayliana glanced at N'oenar and he nodded slightly. It was as good a plan as any, and he said so. Ayliana agreed.

"Kerenne?" Zehrid looked at his sister, and when she nodded, he smiled. "I like it, too."

Sarn chuckled. "Well, I think you folks have a good basic plan here. I'm going to take the closed sign off the door and get back to making money."

They sat there for another couple of hours, working out the details, and then headed back to the inn. It was more comfortable and, as Zehrid mentioned, had more food. Sarn waved them off with a smile, and pressed a couple of the firerocks into N'oenar's hand when he passed by. "You just never know what'll come in handy, do you? I'll see you folks tomorrow." The short man winked, and N'oenar had to fight back a smile. "I'll see _all_ of you tomorrow."

N'oenar certainly hoped so. Pocketing the rocks, he waved and then headed back to the inn with the others. 

An hour later, Ayliana and N'oenar sat in the room that they shared, staring at one another from their meditative positions. They'd ostensibly split away from the group in order to meditate before the task that evening, but as soon as the door closed they found themselves talking about Jerner and the plan to free Keruck. 

"I don't trust him," N'oenar muttered. He couldn't tell her why, of course, but the fact that Jerner was so familiar with the dark side – more familiar, N'oenar suspected, than the man let on - worried him. And, sometimes, he got an odd feeling… _Hard to see, the Dark Side is._ Was there even a hope of someone detecting a Dark Side user's intentions? N'oenar rather assumed not, since the Sith had existed in secret for so long.

"I don't, either." Ayliana sighed. "But we have to try."

"Yes. We have to try." Even if he hadn't agreed, he couldn't bear to disturb that look of hope on Kerenne's face. "And Jerner won't be going with us, so…"

"Right." Ayliana shook her head. "Something still feels amiss. Of course, it could just be regular nervousness. This is risky, what we're planning."

"But it's a good plan." So long as Jerner and Kerenne were able to follow through with freeing them before they arrived at the compound.

"Yes. It is."

Neither of them mentioned that it was also the _only_ plan.

---

Later that night, N'oenar walked behind Zehrid and Ayliana, their figures appearing as pale gray shadows in the light of the three moons. They had fallen silent, all of them concentrating on the task ahead as they headed for the meeting place that Jerner had directed them to. Jerner, Kerenne, and Rohnid had separated from them an hour earlier, heading to a location between the meeting place and the Hroten province compound. It was a farther hike, and N'oenar wondered if Rohnid was up for it; the man had already been breathing heavily by the time they reached the split-off point.

He looked up as a particularly bright set of lightning forks spread across the sky. N'oenar strained his senses, feeling along the Force, searching for deception, or aggression, or the spark of a Force user. Still not trusting Jerner's intentions, he took a deep breath and reached out to the dark side of the Force, straining to feel anything on that side, also.

Some insect or small animal called to its compatriots, the regular rhythm of sound working to aid N'oenar's concentration. He wondered, idly, what type of insect it was – there was nothing that made a sound like that in the busier Grethid district. Out here, however, in the dusty foothills of the crystal mountains, more wildlife seemed to stir. He sent another thread out, trying to sense anything amiss. There had to be a reason for their misgivings. Some reason.

Nothing. When he opened his eyes and shook his head, Ayliana said in a low voice, "I didn't sense anything, either. Well, anything new. Let's go." 

With a nod, he reluctantly took his saber and handed it to Zehrid. He glanced at Ayliana and wasn't surprised to see her hesitate.

Zehrid smiled. "I'll take good care of them. I promise." Letting out a breath, she handed the polished hilt to the tall man, her eyes following it as he slid it into an inner pocket of his coat. He felt naked without it, but he recognized the logic – two Jedi would never be taken by a non-Force user if they were in possession of their sabers; and, more importantly, if they did get taken to the governor's compound, their sabers would be confiscated. Then, if Sarn was correct, they would be sold to the highest bidder.

"Now, remember. Even if you make it to the government compound, it'll be simple enough to get you out. The homing signals…"

"Right." Ayliana took a deep breath. "Well, let's get going."

As they drew closer to the location Jerner had given them, both padawans remained aware, their holds on the Force never loosening. Though he felt nothing specific through the Force, N'oenar began to hunch his shoulders as they walked, a strange prickling at the base of his neck prompting him to search the dim surroundings. He drew close to Ayliana, bending down to whisper, "Do you feel it, Ayliana? The watching?"

She looked over at him and shook her head.

His imagination, perhaps. Or maybe.… That prickle came again, stronger this time.

They had no other warning. _Something_ lifted him and then flung him to the ground, and as he fell, something in the Force made itself known to him. He groped blindly at it, pulled it around him, used the power to soften his impact with the crystal-strewn ground. Even so, he had to lie still for a moment, catching his breath. The rough shards and clusters of crystal bit into his back and he shifted off of one large piece. As he did so, he caught sight of Ayliana. With a gasp, he sat up, rubbing the leg that was twisted underneath him, and stared at her limp form.

A voice, slow and clear, spoke. "These ought to be sufficient." 

"You're right, Master." The second voice was thin and slurring, a stark contrast to the clearly enunciated words of the first.

"You're… you can use the Force?" Zehrid's voice sounded shaky, uncertain, and N'oenar tried to catch his gaze but couldn't; the tall man's eyes were fixed on Ayliana. N'oenar's fists clenched and then released. Slowly, he repositioned himself until he could get his leg out from underneath him. It seemed a mocking coincidence that it was the same ankle he'd turned when escaping from the Jedi Temple with Ayliana.

He lifted a hand to his mouth, wiping off the blood that trickled from the corner. He daren't look over at Ayliana again, for fear the anger would well up before he could control it. "He can use the Force, Zehrid." N'oenar lifted his eyes to the man that stood above him, the dark red cloak framing a strangely appealing light blue face. An Utapaun - he'd always thought them a very elegant race, tall and thin and graceful, with large eyes that were almost all pupil. "I felt the watching. But… I didn't feel a spark. Nothing, you didn't shine or-"

The Utapaun blinked and leaned back, one hand on a long walking stick. "I maintained my shroud. It is a good thing Master Kharr warned me about you, young one." The blue man's eyes softened, the pupils dilating even further. It was a regretful expression. _Warned? Jerner warned him… shroud… a Dark Jedi, or at least a dark Force user. What have we walked into?_

He looked at the other figure that had appeared beside the Utapaun – and then his eyes shifted to what appeared to be a smaller version of the speedercart they'd ridden to the Grethid district in. He wasn't surprised to see a long form lying within. _Keruck_.

The words burst out before he could stop them. "What did you do to him?"

Suddenly, an invisible hand gripped his throat, squeezing tightly. He tried to gasp, but couldn't do anything except watch black circles burst open in his vision while the Utapaun continued to speak. "My work here will accomplish two tasks. The first, of course, is to make the Danbreen province look like the complete incompetents that they are. Losing a valuable prisoner such as Keruck Kharr – it's unthinkable."

N'oenar could hear Zehrid clear his throat, and the sound seemed to echo between his ears as the black circles turned a fuzzy orange, circled by red. "The royal family will be pleased when you turn them in, won't they? _Alive_?"

Zehrid's not-so-subtle reminder was well-timed. N'oenar gave a silent thanks when the choking sensation lessened enough to allow a thread of cool air to slide down his throat and into his lungs. His vision cleared and he could see the blue man's face once again, his attention caught by curved teeth that seemed too long for the Utapaun's mouth.

"Oh, no. I don't think the royal family will be pleased at all." The smile widened. "Your brother didn't tell you? It wouldn't have been worth my effort to free a prisoner just to please _them_. What does the royal family of this planet mean to me? Nothing."

A sharp bite of fear sank into N'oenar with each thin breath, and he concentrated on saving his strength. When they were on the move, and the Utapaun relaxed and less on guard, he would try a new strategy; it should be safe enough, since they needed both N'oenar and Ayliana alive. Then he heard the words that froze his heart and his mind, and shattered his concentration: "No, these two won't be going to the royal family. These young padawans will be my tribute to Lord Vader."

_Vader_. Visions from his dreams filled his mind and N'oenar began to struggle, shoving up from the ground and lurching towards the Utapaun. But the invisible hand choking him tightened, cutting off all airflow, and his struggles grew weak. N'oenar had forgotten the Utapaun's companion, until the shorter man approached and held a damp cloth over N'oenar's nose. Too weak to rear back, he batted feebly at the hands holding the cloth, and the short man smiled grimly.

N'oenar couldn't stop the instinctual inhalation when the choke hold was suddenly released. As the bitter, acrid taste filled his nose and mouth, he heard Zehrid shout - an incoherent sound. Then blackness swallowed him, and he heard no more.


	16. Chapter 15

A/N: Many thanks to my betas, Buttercup and Rilla! As always, I dearly love feedback, and I do apologize that this chapter is late. "Darth Real Life" has been hitting me hard!

_**Severing the Past**_

**WendyNat**

Chapter 15  
-------------  
A hunched figure sat in front of a fire, poking it with a long stick. A shallow pan of water sat beside the figure and, as N'oenar watched, it lifted into the air and floated over the flames at a gesture from one skeletal hand.

"The Force."

The hunched figure straightened at the sound of his voice and, when the cloak fell back from its face, he gasped. The old woman from the street, those weeks ago on Coruscant… where was he? What was this place? How-

The answer to his unspoken questions came sooner than he expected.

"Your body is trapped in sleep against its will, but your mind remains awake. As does the Force." White eyes stared up at him.

"What's happening?"

"You sleep."

He suddenly remembered the Utapaun, and a bitter tasting rag. "They're taking us to Vader, aren't they?"

"They wish to."

"I have to wake up!" Panic grabbed at him, tearing at his skin with bony fingers.

"Your mind is already awake. Your body just does not listen." The old woman cackled. "You're stuck here with me until your body can listen to your will once again. Relax, now, boy. There's nothing you can do but wait here."

Somehow, at her words, the bony fingers of panic ceased their tearing, and he wondered at it for a moment. But there were more urgent questions in his mind.

"Where is _here_?"

"We're in the Force. We're in your mind. We're all around you." She laughed wildly, tilting the pan and peering at the splashing water. "We are everywhere and nowhere."

_She is insane._

"I am, I am." It took him a moment to realize she was answering his thoughts once again. "Even in dream, even in waking dream, the madness is there, waiting with claws to sink in…"

"Mistress?"

"Shroud the light – you haven't yet, but you must. You must. _He_ is coming – you've been warned. Your Master warned you. Truth floats on the Force, drawn to the ears of those who will listen. Beware."

"I can't. I can't shroud the light – it's the dark side, isn't it? I can't!" _Or could he?_

"You must. You must live, to free the birds."

He stepped forward, and her blind eyes turned towards him. That milky gaze was unnerving, but less so here than it had been in real life. "What are the birds? Are they us? Ayliana and me?"

"No."

That, at least, was direct, and he blinked in surprise. "Who are they, then?"

"You will know. They are near, but they haven't been caged yet."

"Can I keep them from being caged?"

"Some things are beyond your skills."

"But freeing them isn't?"

"Some things are possible." She shook her head, pale wisps of hair floating around her face at the movement. "Easy? No. The greatest pain must be endured, to yield the greatest result."

He frowned, rubbing his forehead. Every time he got one question answered, dozens more came into being. Would he ever be allowed rest?

"When your tasks are done."

"When will that be?"

"Only you can decide." She laughed once again, a cracked chuckle, and at a wave of her hand the pan of water tilted again over the fire. It was beginning to steam.

He moved closer, following her gaze to the pan of water. The steam was strangely mesmerizing. "How is it that you're here? Wherever here is."

"You sleep. I sleep. Worlds away, I am, but distance means nothing to the Force. Remember your teachings." The old woman moved the pan of water from the fire, setting it down in front of him with a flick of her fingers. "Look."

Hesitating a moment, he stared at her before kneeling down and looking at the water. He could see his reflection in it, the light of the stars behind his head, and he lifted his gaze to the old woman. "I don't see-"

"_Look._"

Obediently, he lowered his head again and stared at the water. The ripples slowly began to smooth, and it became as a mirror. No, not a mirror, he realized as he moved closer to the water, a viewscreen. As the image cleared, it pulled him in.

Master Yoda and the other Masters sat in the Jedi Council chamber, every seat filled. All attention centered on a young boy who stood in the center.

Anakin Skywalker.

The boy spoke, his tone something to be used when speaking to an errand boy, not a Jedi Master: "What does _that_ have to do with anything?"

Master Yoda's eyes widened. "Everything! Fear leads to anger… anger leads to hate… hate leads to suffering." Yoda sighed, his ears drooping slightly. "I sense much fear in you."

A bright light flashed, and when N'oenar could see again, Mace Windu stood before him. The tall Jedi Master spoke, his voice deep and wise, "The shadow of the dark side surrounds the Emperor." N'oenar turned and saw other Masters standing around a large projection map, and the next words from Master Windu made his blood freeze: "I sense a plot to destroy the Jedi."

A light once again flashed, and from its depths, he could hear Master Yoda's voice. "The dark side clouds everything…" N'oenar squeezed his eyes shut, or what he thought were his eyes… he wasn't certain what exactly he did, but the light faded and he saw his Master standing before him. Yoda was gone, everything was gone, and it seemed they stood on nothing.

"Master Dannew…" There were questions, many questions, and he filtered through the ones of most importance to him.

"Do not blaze, my Padawan."

More of the same. N'oenar shook his head, and one question rose to the surface, its significance greater than all the others. "Is it stronger? Is the dark side stronger?"

Master Dannew seemed to pace, though his feet did not move. It was odd, watching him float, his hands behind his back, that contemplative expression on his face that N'oenar remembered so well. "It is the sprinter, fast and fierce but tiring quickly. The light side is enduring, forever, but it must grow within you. Over time, the sprint of the dark side will wear on you; it requires more of you than the other side of the Force."

Understanding dawned in him. "Emotion, passion." Emotion was certainly wearying, he had to admit.

"Yes."

"But is it stronger?"

Master Dannew frowned. "It is different."

"That's not an answer."

"Isn't it?" Master Dannew moved closer to him, though N'oenar could not see him make any effort to do so. It wasn't so much a floating as a shift of position, occurring in the blink of an eye. Where was this place? "Smolder, do not blaze, and the heat should be a healing rather than an injury. A protection."

Then the light swallowed them, and when it receded, N'oenar was once more looking on his surroundings as if through a viewscreen, rather than participant. The switch was almost dizzying, and it took a moment for the scene before him to sink in. He gasped when he recognized Zehrid, a limp Keruck over his shoulder.

Zehrid lowered Keruck to the ground, then strode to where Rohnid and Kerenne stood, his face tight. "Where's Jerner?"

"Right here," Jerner called, gliding from the shadows and heading towards Keruck.

Kerenne stepped forward, her movements almost frantic. "Zehrid! Where are they? We waited, but we didn't see anyone pass-"

Without a word, Zehrid brushed past Kerenne and came up behind Jerner, who was bent over Keruck's still form. Whipping out a hand, he yanked the saber from his brother's belt.

Jerner lifted his hands in a calming gesture, his eyes guarded as he stared at his older brother. "Zehrid-"

"What have you done? Why-"

"I made a deal, I did what I had to do, to get Keruck back!" Jerner's eyes narrowed. "You knew it was dangerous."

"What? You didn't tell me _this_ would happen!" Zehrid's voice was a fury and Kerenne looked between the two men with concern.

"What's going on? Where's N'oenar? Where were they taken?"

Zehrid turned to her, rage suffusing his face. "The man who Jerner made a _deal_ with is a Force user, and he damned sure wasn't a Jedi! Unless they've started using the Force to choke padawans and fling-"

"_What_?" Kerenne's voice came out as a shriek.

"They're not dead - he's going to turn them over to some Lord Vader. And when N'oenar heard that he almost went-"

Rohnid stepped forward, his face pale, and he leaned over Jerner. "Where are they now?"

"I don't know." Jerner shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut. "I don't know - I can't know." He touched his twin brother's forehead and sighed. "I made a deal with the devil." Jerner shook his head as he stood and backed away. "And the devil's on his way… I don't have a choice."

Jerner ran.

In a bright flash, the scene changed, and this time N'oenar was a part of it rather than silent observer. He stood before the stone wall that had appeared so often before in dreams, and beside him was his Master.

"Was that real, what I just saw?"

"All things are real, from a certain point of view."

"You know what I mean!" N'oenar's fists clenched, and he dragged in a ragged breath. "Did it happen? Does Kerenne- do they all know-"

Master Dannew stared at him for a long moment, then nodded. "Yes." He turned towards the wall, then, and said, "To be saved, it must be broken."

Reluctantly, N'oenar followed his Master's gaze. The first line of the Jedi Code was gone now, crumbled completely away. N'oenar knew what it had once said, of course: _There is no emotion; there is peace._ He had failed that edict already. Then he noticed that the third line was beginning to fade, dust forming as the words crumbled. _There is no passion; there is serenity._

"Knowledge is precious." Master Dannew turned to him, holding out his braid. "_Hide. **Live**_."

When N'oenar reached out and touched the familiar coil, the light flashed again, sending him to another place, another time. The wall and his Master had disappeared, and instead of the braid he touched warm skin. Kerenne's hand. They were running, Kerenne pulling him along, her laughter filling the crisp, cool air. Three moons shone on a lake, blue and red crystals sparkled in their light, but N'oenar could not relax and enjoy the scenery. Before them, once again, was the cliff's edge.

This time, he didn't even try to pull back. Full-speed, they leapt off of the cliff, and the chasm shone with a bright light, blinding him as he fell, his arms wrapping tight around her. She laughed, then her face grew serious and she pulled away. "I have to," she said, then she was gone, and the light disappeared, and his arms closed on thin air.

"N'oenar!" A voice, far-off, called his name. He struggled towards it, fighting off the gripping fingers of sleep and opened his eyes. The room he found himself in was small, and the walls were undecorated and plain. A single flat glowing disc on one wall provided some illumination, enough to see that they were in what appeared to be a metal box of a room with a single door. The light was dim, but he could see Ayliana's face bent over him; she was holding her head with one hand and wincing, but her expression was full of concern.

"Oh, thank goodness!" She sucked in a breath that sounded perilously close to a sob and he stared at her, blinking heavy eyelids. What was wrong with him?

"Ayliana." His voice was just a croak, and he could still taste the remnants of that bitter substance on his tongue. Struggling to sit up, he touched his throat, trying to swallow. Ayliana held a water bottle out to him and, with relief, he took it and tilted his head back, drinking deeply.

"I thought you were… you were barely breathing."

"I'm still barely breathing." He had to concentrate on each inhalation, almost as if his body had forgotten how to breathe in deep enough. "I don't know what that stuff was he gave me, but-"

"What stuff? What happened?"

Shaking his head to clear it, he looked at her, frowning. "Are you all right? You were-"

"I'm fine. Just a headache." She waved her hand dismissively, but he could see the pain etched in her face. "Tell me what happened after I was…"

Then it came back to N'oenar, crashing down on him with the weight of a thousand fears, and he jumped up, swaying. His hand reached out blindly to steady himself as a wave of nausea passed. "Vader… Vader, they're… we've got to get out!" He turned to the wall, feeling along its smooth edges, knowing even as he did that it was hopeless – he saw no seam, no opening other than the single rectangle of a door that undoubtedly held their captors on the other side.

"What? Vader? What's-"

Without thought, beyond thought, he began to speak, to tell her of Vader and what he'd been shown by Master Dannew, and as the words spilled from his lips they came faster and faster, no filter stopping the full truth from being revealed.

His throat grew dry and she handed him the water bottle again, a stunned look on her face as she stared at him. He continued to speak, until eventually he'd told her everything.

She leaned against the wall and slid down it. "You can't… you can't really believe…"

"No. I can't believe it." N'oenar swallowed another sip of the water, shaking his head. "But it's true. I just don't know… I don't know if I can do it."

"You can't! The dark side… N'oenar, how could you control it? It's insane!" She shook her head, staring at him with wide eyes. "Everything we've been taught-"

"I know."

"And what are you supposed to learn from Roon? How is Vaapad fitting in?"

"I don't know."

"N'oenar… you can't."

"What if it's the only way?" N'oenar put his head in his hands, rubbing his temples. "Master Lomar told me. It was his last order. 'Hide. Live.'"

She was silent for many moments, then she sighed. "Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you tell me before now?"

He just laughed, shaking his head. After a moment, she lowered her gaze.

"All right. I know why – it's insane."

"Exactly." He sat down near her, fingering the braid that still lay in his pocket. As he did so, his finger brushed against one of the firerocks that Sarn had given him, and he pulled it out. It shone brightly in the dim room.

"What are we going to do?" She winced again, and he moved closer, remembering the force with which she'd hit the ground.

"Let me see that." Parting her hair, he frowned at the matted blood and moved the hand holding the firerock closer. A hiss escaped him when he saw the wicked bruise, dried blood surrounding a gash on her scalp. "You've got a lump."

"I felt that much."

Why hadn't she done something to soften the impact when she was thrown? He frowned, replaying the scene in his mind, remembering his split-second grasp of the Force, reliving the moment… and he knew suddenly that she wouldn't have been able to. _It is the sprinter, fast and fierce but tiring quickly. The light side is enduring, forever, but it must grow within you._ Fast and fierce…. Though he tried to deny what had happened, the evidence was too clear.

He'd grasped at the dark side instinctively.

Over the next several hours, they spoke more about his dreams, and Jerner's actions, and what the Utapaun meant to do. And they spoke of Anakin Skywalker. Eventually, they quieted, and N'oenar almost told her of his suspicions regarding how he'd softened his landing, but he didn't. He didn't know if it was shame or fear that kept him from speaking of it, but he did know that she'd already heard more than most people could absorb in one sitting.

They both slept sporadically, neither able - or desiring - to sleep for long. Adrenaline-laced fear kept them awake, and at each sound or muffled voice they tensed, wondering if it was _him_. They had heard nothing from their captors, no message, no contact. A muffled thump here or there, but nothing more.

He'd told her of the scene he'd witnessed in his dream, and they both believed it to be truth. Neither expected the others to be able to find them without Jerner's assistance; therefore, it was a grave shock when, several hours later, N'oenar leaned his head back and saw a green glow begin to light the metal ceiling of their prison.

"Ayliana!" He shook her awake, and once she had blinked a few times in the glow of the firerocks, he pointed upwards. "Look!"

Small bits of molten metal began to hit the floor and they backed away, watching as the lightsaber slowly cut through the ceiling. The noise became louder and N'oenar hoped that the sound wouldn't alert anyone who might be listening.

Finally, the rough circle was freed and lifted. They climbed up from the floor, watching as a man's head and arms lowered out of the opening. Keruck. It couldn't be Jerner, not after what he'd seen. After what Jerner had done. "Are you N'oenar and Ayliana?"

"Yes!"

"Can you make it up? Zehrid wasn't certain how badly injured you were."

"I can – I'll boost Ayliana."

"My head's fine, I can make-" Before she could finish, N'oenar tucked the firerocks into his pocket and bent down to grasp her around the thighs, lifting her so that Keruck could grip her arms and pull her through. He caught sight of the blood-matted hair on the back of her head, and he hoped that there was no lasting damage as he used the Force to leap up and catch the edge of the opening.

The edge was rough, and hot from the saber's blade, but he ignored the slight pain and pulled himself up, glancing around. They were in a crawlspace of some type, and as he lifted his body completely through the opening he wondered how the Jedi Knight had found them. But he didn't ask, not needing Keruck's gesture to recognize the value of silence.

With another gesture, Keruck turned and lightly crawled along the hard beams that lined the crawlspace. Perhaps it was a storage area of some type? As they crawled after Keruck, N'oenar could see vents snaking through the dark space, their metal sides glittering in the light that filtered through seams in the wall.

Sooner than N'oenar expected, they reached a small access panel - this one part of the structure, rather than created by a lightsaber. Quickly, they climbed down the outside of the building, the rough stone and wood giving them many handholds. When they reached the bottom they had to jump away from the wall to avoid a number of flowering plants set around the perimeter. N'oenar watched Ayliana closely as she leapt, and winced in sympathy when she had to pause and hold her head upon landing.

"It's a house!" N'oenar breathed when he reached bottom and they began to move away from the structure. He wasn't sure what he had been expecting, but it certainly wasn't this innocuous-looking building surrounded by flowers. It didn't seem the Utapaun's style, though the cell within did, and he wondered whose house it was, and whether they knew to what use it was being put.

They made their way quickly across the courtyard behind the house and slipped into a narrow alleyway of bushes. Keruck kept them moving, turning up one alleyway and then another, crossing a yard or two before entering another long line of bush-covered paths. As they hurried along, N'oenar studied their rescuer. The man looked shockingly like Jerner and, though he'd been prepared for it, it was still a surprise to glance over and see the face of the man who'd betrayed them.

"I thought you had a scar," N'oenar said in a low voice.

Keruck shook his head. "I had to hide it, just in case we were seen. It's too distinctive."

"Oh. How did you-"

"Cosmetics." Keruck smiled. "A man does what he has to do."

N'oenar rubbed his neck. "Yeah. I hear you."

Ayliana remained silent as they walked, her head bowed, staring at the ground. He saw Keruck send her several concerned glances, and a few times the Jedi Knight reached out to steady her when she stumbled. When they rounded the bend of one alley lined with bright red blossoms, Keruck said, "Kerenne should be ahead. The others are with the speedercart. Well, Sarn and Rohnid are, at least."

"Where's Zehrid?"

Keruck didn't answer. They walked on in silence for a few more minutes, then N'oenar saw a familiar figure dart out in front of them from the bushes. He smiled, despite the grave situation they found themselves in; Kerenne's look of relief was beyond compare. She ran up to them, her eyes flitting over Ayliana with a frown before settling on N'oenar.

"Are you all right?" She put a hand on his arm and studied his face critically.

"I'm fine. Ayliana's-"

"Ayliana's fine," the young woman muttered. "Hi, Kerenne."

"That's a lot of blood dried on your head, for being fine," Kerenne said after turning to her. "They've got supplies at the shop; Keruck knows that well enough, now. Come on, cover your head, that's a good girl." She pulled Ayliana's hood up and over her hair, ignoring the padawan's icy look. "Sarn's waiting with the speedercart. This way."

"What happened?"

Kerenne swallowed and looked away, her hair hiding her face. The sun shone through the disorderly mane, glinting off some strands while making others appear even darker than they were. "Jerner – he's turned to the dark side-"

"I think they know that much," Keruck said with a sigh. He kept a steady pace.

"Shouldn't it bother you more?" Kerenne asked and Keruck stared at her. "He's our brother, your twin."

"I didn't know him very well, Kerenne." Keruck stopped and put a hand on her shoulder. N'oenar glanced at the alley, wondering if the bushes would ever thin out so they could see the rest of the area. "It bothers me, of course, that a Jedi has fallen, but not more so he than any other."

Ayliana nodded, then grimaced and brought a hand to her head. N'oenar wondered if the pain was worsening for her in the bright sunlight.

"What about Zehrid?" N'oenar asked.

Kerenne shook her head, blinking rapidly, and he had a sudden urge to comfort her, somehow. But with Keruck and Ayliana looking on, it wasn't possible. Her lips trembled when she answered him. "He went after Jerner-"

_What?_ "But, Jerner's… why would he do that?"

"Blood. Family. He's always valued that above everything else," Kerenne said, her voice sounding lost. "I tried to stop him, but… he thought he could reason with him, I think. He won't believe that Jerner's really…"

"He probably won't be able to find him, Kerenne," Keruck pointed out. She nodded, but her face was still troubled.

"If he doesn't, I will," N'oenar said.

"He's dangerous, N'oenar."

"I know." But he didn't care. He would know why Jerner had made that deal. Why had he lied to them? Though in his gut, he knew why.

The Utapaun's influence.

The dark side.

And Master Dannew thought this would be safe for him to learn?

A short time later, they found the speedercart. Rohnid and Sarn rushed to them as they approached, and though they tried to appear nonchalant their response gave N'oenar a warm feeling. He did have friends, allies - even if nothing else left in his life was stable, they were. After a quick initial check-over, during which Sarn frowned over Ayliana's head, they climbed into the speedercart and set off.

In moments, they were out of the housing area and gliding smoothly over unpopulated landscape, mounds of crystal glittering wildly in the sunlight as they sped by. Keruck turned to N'oenar after all signs of habitation had dwindled away and held out his hand. In it, was N'oenar lightsaber.

With a relieved sigh, he reached out and took it. "Thank you," he breathed, hefting the handle in his palm. He'd felt incomplete without it, though he didn't realize just how much until he had it once again. Ayliana also smiled in relief when she took her saber, and N'oenar realized it was the blade Keruck had used to break them out of their cell.

"It's a good thing we had you use those homing beacons," Rohnid said, eyeing both of them. Sarn was piloting, after declaring it would be a frozen day on Mustafar before he'd let Rohnid pilot his speedercart.

"I'm surprised they even worked, since Jerner wasn't planning on freeing us to begin with." N'oenar's voice was steady, but he allowed a simmering anger to grow within him, using everything at his disposal to try and sense Jerner's location. And Zehrid's location. He knew Kerenne was worried, and he had to admit she had good reason. Jerner hadn't taken any oath to protect his older sibling….

"The patches were my idea," Sarn said, his voice serious. "I picked them up on one of my purchasing trips. But Jerner seemed rather taken with the notion when I told him about it." He didn't look away from the path as he flew, but his hands tightened on the controls.

Rohnid nodded, his face grave. "He was torn. He hadn't decided yet, maybe. But…"

"The dark side is powerful," Keruck finished. Rohnid looked at his friend and nodded again. Then the large man cut a glance at Ayliana and Keruck pulled something from his cloak. Leaning over, he touched Ayliana's arm and gestured her to drink. N'oenar hoped it would do some good for his fellow padawan. He wasn't comfortable with her silence; it wasn't like her, when things like this were being discussed.

Kerenne made an incoherent noise and he turned to look at her. Her face was steel – cold and hard, as she said, "If Sarn hadn't had another of the sensors…"

"Jerner made his decision when he struck the deal with Yaril." N'oenar frowned, and Keruck continued, "The Utapaun. I didn't know the other one's name, but I can't imagine either one will be very pleased when they find you two missing." The Jedi Knight shook his head sadly. "I can't understand why he would make such a deal, and with a Dark Jedi. Two lives for one… even putting aside emotion and duty, that isn't a fair trade."

"He took an oath," Rohnid said, looking out over one sparkling red mound.

"He took other oaths, oaths to the Jedi Order." Keruck's jaw tightened, and silence fell. N'oenar looked over at Ayliana, who had covered her eyes with one hand to block out the bright light. He had also taken oaths. But to follow his final oath, he would have to break the Jedi Code. Passion and emotion, the keys to the dark side. Forbidden to a Jedi.

The crystal mounds grew sparse and soon Keruck sank back in his seat, covering his face carefully with the cloak. They were fast approaching the Grethid district. N'oenar also drew his cloak up, suddenly realizing that there was every chance this Yaril would attempt to retrieve them, once he realized they'd escaped. It was doubtless Jerner had told - or would tell - their location.

It didn't take long for Sarn to maneuver the speedercart into a well-appointed hangar. "Home sweet home," Sarn said, climbing out of the cart. When Ayliana stood, he reached up to help her down, shaking his head. "Now, you take it easy, young lady. Don't think I didn't notice that bump on your head."

"It's nothi-"

"It's something. And I want a closer look soon as we get to the shop." Sarn glanced at N'oenar and Kerenne. "Unless you had medical supplies at that inn-"

Kerenne shook her head. "Let's go to the shop first. We'll stop by the inn to settle the credits and gather our things after that. And we still need to find Zehrid."

"Gather our things?" Ayliana blinked, and N'oenar was relieved to see that she was handling the light better than she had earlier. The substance Keruck had given her during the ride had evidently done some good.

"We need to get off-planet, Ayliana." N'oenar shook his head. "At least until this storm blows over."

"Exactly." Sarn patted Ayliana's arm when she frowned. "It's being handled, young woman." Ayliana glared at him and he chuckled. "Feeling better? Good, good. We're still going to work on that head of yours, evil looks or not."

N'oenar climbed out of the speedercart last, and when he set foot on the ground he smiled at Sarn. "Thanks. She keeps trying to minimize it-"

"It's _nothing_."

Keruck smiled briefly, and N'oenar was reminded of his Master as the Jedi Knight spoke. "If it was nothing, then you wouldn't insist so much. You would just let him see its insignificance for himself, now, wouldn't you?"

Ayliana didn't even bother to answer. N'oenar didn't blame her.

The shop wasn't far, and soon they approached the door. The closed sign was lit, with a small electronic display glowing on the window that detailed their expected return time. To N'oenar's surprise, Rohnid and Sarn both stopped in their tracks and stared at the door.

"What's-"

"Someone's been here," Rohnid said. N'oenar frowned, studying the entrance. He couldn't see anything out of place, but Rohnid would likely know better than he did. Even so, a strange, cold feeling began to spread through him.

"Zehrid, perhaps," Sarn muttered. "Maybe he gave up."

But, when they entered, no one was there. N'oenar frowned, that cold feeling growing stronger with each passing moment. Walking to where Sarn was inspecting Ayliana's wounds, he shook his head and looked at Keruck. "Something's not right."

"What?" Keruck glanced at him, eyes narrowed. He felt a brief moment of pride, that this Jedi Knight seemed to accord him so much respect, but the pride faded quickly as that odd feeling continued to grow.

N'oenar shook his head again and wandered through the shop, eventually returning to where Sarn and Ayliana stood, arguing over her injury. Suddenly, he looked at the corner and a knife of ice drove into his chest.

The saber was missing.

"Where is it?" he gasped.

"Where is what?"

"The saber that was in that case?"

Sarn's eyes shot over to the corner where the now-empty case hung, a look of alarm overtaking his normally steady expression. "I didn't sell it-"

"I didn't, either."

Ayliana's voice was soft, but it carried. "Jerner."

"But if he was here-" Kerenne began.

"He could still be here," Rohnid said, looking at the narrow doorway. "Maybe he got here just before we did."

Keruck shook his head. "I don't sense him."

Ayliana glanced at N'oenar with a small shrug.

"I don't, either-" Suddenly N'oenar's eyes widened – he sensed something. A flame, just a small spark at first, but one that quickly exploded into a roaring furnace. "Zehrid!" Without another word, he ran, the flaming sense bursting within him, and he could feel anger laced throughout - anger and fear and a bitter sorrow, a feeling so wretched that he almost sobbed even on the periphery.

Leaping through the narrow doorway, he ran to the back wall, ignoring sight and letting his other senses take over. Thin fingers groped at him, dark fingers of anger and fear, answering the overwhelming emotion he felt in the Force. He could hear the others behind him, could hear Ayliana shout that there was no door, could hear Sarn correct her breathlessly. There was a door to the rear of the building - a private area where shipments could be dropped, they'd paid a handsome sum for the extra amenity….

N'oenar fumbled for the hidden panel, following Sarn's instructions and his own senses, and almost fell out of the building as it slid open. Stumbling through the doorway, he had a quick impression of bright white stone and grass surrounding a large courtyard that held a dark gray ship. Normally the ship would have stolen his attention, but not this time - in front of the ship, he saw Zehrid crumpled on the ground, his position frighteningly reminiscent of the way Ayliana had lain after the Utapaun's attack.

Except for the blood.

When the red on Zehrid's tunic became apparent, an answering red cloud rose within N'oenar. Anger bubbled under the surface, a steady smoldering fire within him. Zehrid's chest rose and fell… N'oenar would keep control – smolder only. He could follow that order. He could. If it came to a duel, he knew he would need the help of any weapon at his disposal. His eyes flicked to Zehrid's side, and he saw the saber hilt whose absence he'd noted in the shop. Jerner had his own saber back, then.

Keruck immediately ran to his brother's side, Kerenne and Sarn right behind him. "He's alive, but–"

"Get him into the ship, I have a medical-"

N'oenar didn't hear the rest, the roaring in his ears was too loud, too encompassing. He'd felt something. Felt _him_. Jerner. He turned and ran, seeing without eyes a dark shadow racing from the ship – Jerner must have tried to board, to get off-planet… Zehrid must have tried to stop him….

A distant part of him heard a woman's voice, screaming at him to wait. Wait - no. No! He wouldn't wait. There was something only he could do, something….

There he was. N'oenar could see him clearly, heading for the far end of the courtyard, where a gap appeared in the stone wall. He pulled on the Force, on whatever would help him gain more speed, and yelled, "_Jerner!_" The man turned, lit his saber, and it was then that N'oenar realized his own saber was already out and lit.

He didn't slow his momentum when he reached the fallen Jedi, striking with the full force of his movement, and Jerner had to twist out of his way, unable to even attempt an attack.

"Why?" N'oenar set his feet firmly, staring at the other man. "Why did you-"

"You feel it, don't you?" Jerner smiled. "I knew you had the potential – you could come with me, you know… we could-"

N'oenar interrupted him with a quick swing of his saber. Jerner lifted his blade at the last moment, sparks and a loud crashing sound filling the air. "I will _not_, after what you did! Are you insane?"

"_He's_ got watchers. Force watchers, hunting down the light." Jerner licked his lips. "What chance do you think you have, ignoring the dark?"

Anger struck him again, a thin slice sliding through the cracked surface of his control. With a fierceness he didn't know he possessed, he moved through the forms, his movements sharp and jerky, directed by a power greater than that he had felt before. Ice gave way to flame, and it was a quick, ferocious power, like his anger – a blaze.

"I felt you coming, so far away," Jerner growled when their sabers met and, pulling his saber back, he delivered a quick kick to N'oenar's leg. "It's your fault I had to attack Zehrid, you know – yours… I felt you, and I knew I had to stop Zehrid arguing-"

"Lie!" N'oenar hissed, concentrating hard and then, inspired by his own experience with the Utapaun, he pulled on the dark side, felt it enter in a torrent, and held out his hand, _lifting_ Jerner and then _pushing_ him to the ground.

The other man was able to soften the landing, of course, but it was enough of a shock that he dropped his saber, and N'oenar swiftly kicked it aside. Jerner lay on the ground, gasping, staring up at N'oenar. His saber lay a few feet from him and, when N'oenar saw his face change to one of concentration, when N'oenar saw the saber that lay on the soft grass shift, he struck, a dragonsnake with teeth bared, blue blade becoming a glowing arc. Jerner let out a hoarse cry, clutching the stump where his hand had once been.

N'oenar's mind clouded, the dark side filling him, the blackest liquid poured into a clear container, turning it opaque…

_Do not blaze_.

The voice was distant, the memory distant, and he could see Jerner's eyes widen even as the other man gagged with pain.

_Smolder only_.

He lowered his saber, taking a step back, then the cloud forced an image to the front of his mind. Ayliana, on the ground, crumpled and unmoving – Jerner had betrayed them, had hoped to have them sent to Vader… have Ayliana sent to Vader…. His saber swung up once again, and he teetered on the edge, battling, not knowing even then whether it was the will of the dark or his very own will that he fought.

"Don't, N'oenar," Ayliana called out, her voice steady but holding an undercurrent of concern that tore through him. He shook his head, blinking at the man on the ground, staring in disbelief at what he'd done. What he'd been about to do. N'oenar stepped back, his saber falling to his side. It was too strong. Too much. Ayliana had been right – he couldn't control it, he couldn't _hope_ to control it.

A look of disdain crossed Jerner's face, just a flash before pain twisted it once again.

"N'oenar. Leave him."

_Leave him_? Even with his new realizations about the dark side, the claws of anger threatened to drag him under once again. His fingers tightened on the handle of his saber, gripping so hard that he could feel the individual fibers of the cloth wrapping. "He tried to kill us. Tried to kill Zehrid."

"A side effect, not the main mission." Jerner gasped, clutching his arm to his body. "I didn't want to kill you, didn't want to turn you over, but you left me no choice. There was no other way – I _had no choice._"

"And Zehrid?"

"I felt you coming, I knew… I had to get to the ship, get out… he tried to stop me, tried to… I had no choice! I've got to get out - _he's_ coming…"

_Yaril, or Vader_? He moved towards Jerner, stepping forward before he was even aware his legs moved.

"There is always choice." Ayliana's voice was clear and cold. Ice. "N'oenar, don't. The Force will decide his fate. It's not for us to do."

_The Force will decide._ He stared at Jerner, and Jerner stared back – and N'oenar couldn't help but be obsessed with the thought that he could become this man. Jerner wasn't evil, hadn't been evil; he'd just been incapable of controlling the addiction that was the dark side. Would N'oenar be any more successful?

Jerner's face twisted into a half-smile. "You think you can avoid him? You think… you can't shroud the light, it'll call him like a beacon. A moth and a flame…"

"Zehrid lives, N'oenar." Ayliana touched his arm and he tore his eyes away from Jerner to look at her. The Keeper of the Faith, her eyes still shadowed with pain. "And we need to leave. Zehrid said it, too, when they carried him into the ship – Vader's coming."

Extinguishing his saber, he bent down and picked up Jerner's, looking at the hilt. It shone brightly in the sun; it seemed that Jerner also preferred the cool grace of durasteel to the clumsy practicality of rubber. Yet one more similarity. The man stared at him, silent, his eyes watchful - eyes that flickered almost golden in the light of the sun.

And he knew, then, that Ayliana was right. Pocketing both sabers, he nodded sharply and turned on his heel. Jerner could take his chances with Vader – he began it, he could end it. The man that was once Anakin Skywalker likely wouldn't be pleased at Jerner and his partner's failure. "The Force will decide."


	17. Chapter 16

Note: Thank you to everyone who's commented and is still reading! My apologies for the lateness of this chapter – I normally try to stick to a weekly update, but a new position at work threw my schedule out of the loop. It's back on track now, but I'll have to fall to a biweekly schedule.

Many thanks to Buttercup for her beta work on this chapter!

_**Severing the Past**_

**WendyNat**

Chapter 16  
-------------

N'oenar's head pounded as he walked back to the ship with Ayliana. The sun that had been a warmth was now harsh, and he wanted nothing more than to escape its knowing gaze. _The Force will decide._ But what would its final decision be?

"Rohnid saw." Ayliana's voice was low, but the surprise of hearing her speak still made him jump. "The others went right into the ship, but he saw me stop and was going to come after me. I told him to stay back… but he was watching." 

"I…" N'oenar shook his head, remembering the penetrating look from the other man after his practice duel with Jerner in the shop, remembering his own silent question about how much Rohnid knew of the Force, and the dark side. "I think he suspected, anyway. Before now."

"I know."

"I'm not going to use it again."

Ayliana didn't reply, and the silence seemed louder than a shout as he followed her up the ramp and into the gray ship. Sarn's voice echoed through the rounded opening, and they followed the sound to where the others were.

"He just keeps saying that. Over and over…"

Sarn nodded at them as they entered. Rohnid stood behind Kerenne, staring down at Zehrid, but he looked up when N'oenar cleared his throat. To his relief, there was no condemnation in that gaze. Or there didn't seem to be, at least.

"You're back," Kerenne breathed. "I was worried tha-"

"What is he saying over and over?" Ayliana asked, cutting her off. Kerenne didn't even scowl, and N'oenar knew that Zehrid's injuries must be dire indeed if she was so distracted as to ignore an interruption from Ayliana.

"That Lord Vader's coming." Rohnid frowned. "Who _is_ this Lord Vader, exactly?"

"He's…" N'oenar stopped, at a loss. How could he explain, without giving away too much? Without giving away information about his dreams? Ayliana was the only one who knew, and he wanted to keep it that way. Luckily, Keruck spoke up.

"I heard them talking about him, Yaril and his assistant. Vader is the Emperor's right hand man, from the way it sounds." Keruck paused before continuing. "And he's the Emperor's way of getting rid of the rest of the Jedi." 

"He has Jedi hunters, seeking out Force users. That's what Jerner said, before…" N'oenar stopped again, and this time Ayliana finished for him.

"Before he got away from us." Ayliana shifted, one hand reaching up to her head and the other to the wall. "He – they - called Vader. He's coming here."

Silence fell, and Sarn shook his head before returning to Zehrid's wounds.

"We need to leave soon." Keruck's voice was quiet, but firm.

Kerenne looked at N'oenar and then jerked her gaze to Keruck, her fingers grasping the hilt of her knife spasmodically. "We… we can't. Zehrid needs to heal-"

"I'll take care of that," Sarn said, cutting her off. "You just go do what you need to do."

"But, Zehrid-"

"He'll stay on this ship." Sarn met Rohnid's gaze, and some sort of unspoken communication passed between the two. Rohnid nodded slightly, and Sarn continued, "I'm coming with you. It's about time for another inventory run, and I can find strange things on Roon as easily as anywhere else. I _have_ found strange things there, in fact."

"You've been to Roon?" N'oenar asked, relief pushing aside some of the dread that lingered still. The emotions of the dark side did not let go their hold easily.

"A few times. I have a contact there."

After a short discussion, it was decided that Kerenne and Rohnid would settle their account at the inn and retrieve their belongings. N'oenar smiled when Zehrid weakly demanded that they bring the food, too.

Kerenne turned and glared at her brother. "Now I _know_ you'll be all right," she snapped before whirling and heading out of the ship. Rohnid followed her out, chuckling.

"You won't be eating much of anything, young man, until you're patched up." Sarn kept his voice light, but N'oenar could see the concern in the man's expression as he studied Zehrid's wounds. "A day – or a day and night - in the bacta tank is what's on your schedule. Lucky thing he didn't really get you straight on-"

"He didn't want to," Zehrid said, his voice a bare whisper. "Just trying to get to the ship."

Curious, N'oenar asked, "You've got a bacta tank?"

Sarn nodded briefly, not looking away from his task. "Never know what you'll run into, traveling around like I do. It was well worth the expense." 

"The truth, indeed," Keruck commented, placing a hand on Zehrid's forehead. It was strangely reminiscent of the way Jerner had touched Keruck's head, in N'oenar's vision, and he felt a twisting pain at the comparison. So very similar, and yet…

How had it happened? When had the turn from light to dark occurred? Was it a gradual thing, or a sudden transformation, a lightning strike that forever changed what it touched? He could still feel the burning heat, the need, the power….

"N'oenar?"

Blinking, he stared at Keruck. "I'm sorry, I missed-"

"That's understandable. It's been a busy couple of days, for you in particular." The tone of Keruck's voice gave nothing away, but still N'oenar shot the Jedi a sharp glance. Then, Sarn asked for their help in lifting Zehrid to the bacta tank, and the moment passed without comment.

When Ayliana stepped forward to help, Sarn waved her away, sending her a stern look when she protested. "Don't think I've forgotten that head of yours, young woman. It's only just cleaned, and I didn't get a chance to put any of my concoction on it before all the excitement. So just sit down over there and wait," Sarn ordered, pointing to a small chair against one wall.

N'oenar watched as she scowled, and was relieved when she sat without argument. The Keeper of the Faith, indeed. She'd run after him, in the bright sunlight, and pulled him back from that cliff's edge, even injured as she was. No thoughts of herself; a true Jedi.

"Just like my wife. So busy taking care of everyone else that she forgets about herself," Sarn muttered, echoing N'oenar's thoughts as they lifted Zehrid to the tank. With the three of them, it was a simple matter to get him into the tank, and then Keruck and N'oenar stepped back while Sarn made sure the supports were connected properly.

"Comfy?" When Zehrid glared at him, Sarn chuckled. "Good, good. Just keep breathing – you're lucky we don't have to dunk your head in, too. That's not so much fun, I can tell you that first-hand." With a few adjustments to the controls, the clear-walled tank began to fill with the thick bacta fluid, and Sarn nodded in satisfaction before turning to Ayliana. "Now, young woman…"

While Sarn turned his attentions to Ayliana, Keruck and N'oenar stood well out of the way, near the bacta tank. N'oenar watched Sarn pull out a small jar of dark brown ointment, wondering what it was made from. The man worked gingerly, but with a skill that impressed N'oenar. When he said as much, Sarn gave a wry smile.

"I've patched up a number of people – including myself – over the years."

"It is a dangerous line of work that you do," Keruck said. Sarn nodded.

"Not many realize that, but yes. It's almost a relief to just patch up a nice clean slice or two, rather than some odd moss burn that won't quit working through the skin."

Keruck raised his eyebrows. "You've been to Bunota, have you? Past the Outer Rim?"

"Once. And that was plenty enough."

"I can imagine," N'oenar said. He'd read of the planet, long ago, but as he recalled it was rarely visited due to some unusually venomous indigent species.

"Some mosses aren't so harsh, of course. This concoction I have was made from a moss on Myrkr. Very potent healing abilities, but it has to be mixed just right," Sarn said as he frowned at Ayliana's head. His thin fingers probed her wounds and she bore it without protest – N'oenar wasn't certain if her lack of reaction was due to a force of will or the effects of the moss mixture. "Just one more bit, here… and we're done, young woman. Don't overdo it, but your head will be as good as it ever was after you sleep on it tonight, unless I completely miss my guess."

"Which he never does," a deep voice said from the entrance. N'oenar turned to see Rohnid and Kerenne.

"That was faster than I expected," N'oenar said, eyeing the impressive number of bags that they both carried. He stepped forward to take his and Ayliana's packs from Kerenne. 

"These," Kerenne said, dropping two other packages to the floor, "are _his_. And yes, I put some of the food in there, or he won't give you any rest when he gets out of that tank."

"Still doesn't take well to an empty stomach, I take it?" Keruck asked, smiling slightly. A low sound came from the tank, but N'oenar couldn't tell if it was a chuckle or a sound of indignation.

"We just need to figure out how to get off this planet, now."

"Keruck looks similar enough to Zehrid – I wonder if that spaceport alien would notice the difference, if he keeps his hood up?" Kerenne chewed her lip, frowning towards the bacta tank.

"Old Scratchy, you mean?"

At Sarn's comment, N'oenar smiled. "Old Scratchy… you've met him?"

"Many times." Sarn chuckled and winked. "Never have gotten up the nerve to ask what his issue is."

Ayliana said, "He might not even be working today. And with enough makeup-"

"It's been some time since we landed. He probably wouldn't remember, especially when they look so similar, anyway." Kerenne eyed the Jedi Knight. "He just needs to change his clothes and, like you were saying, freshen up the cosmetics."

N'oenar walked to the small viewscreen, which was programmed to show the outside area. Tapping a sequence on the controls to move the view, he caught sight of the sun's position and frowned. "We need to decide everything soon – we won't be able to take off once night falls." The lightning storms would begin, then, and flying would be out of the question at that point.

"True enough, true enough," Sarn murmured. "You four take Kerenne's ship, Zehrid and I will travel in style in my ship." There was a pause, and N'oenar turned to see Sarn entering something on a datapad, which he handed to Kerenne. "We'll meet you on Roon at these coordinates – there's a small shop there that I often get some odds and ends from, a friend of sorts. Near a small spaceport-"

Kerenne peered at the datapad, pacing the room. Eventually, she came to where N'oenar stood and stopped, glancing first at him and then the viewscreen. "Does Roon have tight security?"

"Not at all." Sarn chuckled. "Quite the opposite."

"Good." 

"So," Rohnid said, a smile spreading over his face. "Is it a cold day in Mustafar?"

N'oenar laughed, though the others didn't appear to catch the reference. "Sarn's speedercart," he explained. "He said it'd be a cold day in Mustafar before he let Rohni-"

"And it will _still_ be a cold day in Mustafar!" Sarn eyed Rohnid darkly, the smattering of dark hair around his ears nearly bristling with indignation. "You've not seen this man pilot a craft before, or you wouldn't be laughing, young man. I'd trust any one of you to drive it, first."

Kerenne grinned. "Well, I've never driven one, but-"

"I have," Keruck said quietly. "But I can't drive it back, only there. Rohnid will have to drive it back here, unless you want him to remain at the spaceport."

Sarn closed his eyes tightly and muttered something under his breath. With a wide smile, Rohnid clapped Sarn on the shoulder. "Someone has to run the shop while you go off and have fun."

"Fun."

"Exactly! I won't put a scratch on her, I promise."

"There doesn't seem to be a lot of choice, Sarn, unless we hire someone." Kerenne knelt and opened one of her packs. "And, speaking of scratches," she said, pulling out a small dark container, "we'd better get Keruck looking pretty before it gets too late to leave." 

N'oenar glanced at Keruck and noticed that the makeup had been rubbed from his face, partially exposing a jagged scar. It was still covered in places, but it appeared to reach from just under one eye to his jawbone.

"Well, just make it so I can pass unnoticed." Keruck smiled. "I don't think it matters how pretty I am."

Kerenne grinned as she moved in front of Keruck and opened the jar. "Men always think that – well, the pretty ones do, at any rate. And you're pretty enough, even with the scar."

"It really doesn't matter."

"Hmm." Kerenne's brow creased slightly as she tilted Keruck's face to the light and dabbed some of the cosmetic cream on him. "It matters enough. Of course, a scar adds a little interest to a pretty man's face, but too many is overkill."

N'oenar's touched his own cheek, where a faint scar remained from his encounter with Sneelis, back when he'd first met Kerenne. When he realized what he was doing, he snatched his hand away, but it was too late – Kerenne had already spotted him. With a crooked smile, she said, "I told Keruck on the way to rescue you that if they'd cut up that handsome face of yours any more, there'd be a price to pay."

N'oenar shifted, flushing when Sarn smirked in his direction. He'd become accustomed to such comments when they were alone – she made it a point to put him off-balance as often as she could - but not when others were about.

"Actually, that's not quite what she sai-"

"Shut up, Keruck, or I'll paint you like a Naboo princess." Keruck subsided with a wink at N'oenar, and Kerenne quickly finished the makeup application. "Come on, then. Let's get to the speedercart."

After some farewells and last-minute details on the coordinates Sarn had given them, they left the shop and headed for the hangar where the speedercart was kept. It had only been hours since they'd arrived back in the Grethid District, but it seemed like another day, another week, a month, even. So much had changed… a shifting within himself, a new realization of just what Master Dannew was asking of him. It was too much. Ayliana was right. It was far too much.

Shouldering his packs, he walked quickly and hoped they'd avoid notice on the way to the hangar. Between the five of them, they weren't overloaded with packages, but N'oenar was still concerned that they might stand out, and so kept to the shadows as much as he could.

Keruck joined him, hugging the edges of buildings as they walked along the streets. The crowds ignored them. As they turned the last corner, Keruck said in a low voice, "She makes light of it now, but she _was_ very worried about you both."

"So was I," N'oenar said, the memory of Ayliana being slammed to the ground with the dark side of the Force sliding to the front of his mind. "So was I."

The speedercart trip passed without incident, and N'oenar made certain to soak in as much as he could, staring out of the cart and committing everything in his view to memory. Sunlight glinted off of blue and red, far-off mounds becoming purplish as the colors blended. When he looked at Ayliana, she was also watching the scenery, a pensive expression on her face.

When they arrived at the spaceport, Rohnid climbed out of the speedercart with them. "You be careful, now. All of you." His gaze lingered on N'oenar.

"We will. Thanks, Rohnid, for everything," N'oenar said. Ayliana nodded.

"Any time, really." He turned to Keruck. "You'll try to return, won't you? After all this ends? There's always a spot for you, at the shop… I don't much like Sarn traveling around by himself so much. He could use a partner."

"If the Force wills it," Keruck said in a low voice. "I will return. My friend." Ayliana smiled when the two men embraced, as did N'oenar when Rohnid pulled away, blinking rapidly. The large man cleared his throat and, scratching the back of his neck, looked away.

"Yes, well… you just be careful there."

Keruck nodded gravely, but N'oenar could sense a thin thread of amusement from the Jedi. "We will."

After more farewells, and additional admonitions to be careful levied, Rohnid took a seat behind the controls of Sarn's speedercart. With a twinkle in his eye, he waved to them as he took off, and N'oenar winced when the man let the speedercart drift too close to the ground. It clanked heavily against a small mound of – thankfully – loose crystals before Rohnid corrected his altitude and, in moments, he was out of sight.

"It looks like Sarn was right. Maybe we should've just hired someone," Kerenne said, staring after the speedercart with a pained look on her face. Keruck nodded slowly from within his hood.

"He'll have time to get it repaired before Sarn returns," Ayliana said. "I hope."

"Right. Let's get a move on, we don't want Sarn getting there too much ahead of us." Kerenne pulled out the datacard with the ship information on it and headed inside. 

The being in charge of the spaceport's arrivals and departures was the same, but he didn't seem to recognize them – or care who they were. When Kerenne handed him the datacard, he scribbled something with his stylus and waved them on. As they headed to the ship, N'oenar could hear the sickening noise of a hairy chin being scratched, and he smiled.

After dropping off their packs in their respective cabins – Kerenne showed Keruck to the larger guest cabin that Kylia had occupied in their last trip - they went to the bridge and took seats. Keruck and Kerenne worked well together as they went through the departure sequence, and N'oenar wondered if it was a bond of blood or simply a bond of kindred spirits – they both seemed to love piloting.

As they headed away from the spaceport, N'oenar sat back and closed his eyes, unwilling to see another planet that he'd grown fond of dwindle in the distance.

"What's that?" Ayliana asked. N'oenar turned to the viewscreen, his eyebrow lifting as he saw the large, oddly-shaped transport ship. Its belly was larger than the top, and he wondered just where the landing supports were kept, and where they'd be placed. It wasn't a ship he'd studied before.

Kerenne glanced up. "Weird one, isn't it? It looks like one of those Rattatack ships."

"Rattatack?" N'oenar frowned. "The slavers?"

"Slavers and mercenary traders." Kerenne nodded and then looked down at the controls. "That's them. Not a very pleasant group of beings."

"I thought slave trading was illegal on Gabris Prime." 

"Officially, it is. Unofficially…" Keruck shook his head. "It could just be a transport of some other kind. They have other exports and imports, of course."

"Or maybe it's stopping for provisions."

"Or they want to see the lightning show. Who knows? Doesn't concern us, whatever it's doing here, unless that Lord Vader of yours has taken to riding their ships around." Kerenne caught N'oenar's gaze when she mentioned Lord Vader, and he wasn't certain if her voice caught on the man's title, or if it was his imagination.

Once they left the atmosphere of Gabris Prime, Kerenne gave Keruck a rundown of the ship. They would trade off with the piloting, much as she and Zehrid did, and Keruck listened closely, asking questions where appropriate. Having already heard the basics during their last journeys, N'oenar and Ayliana headed to their cabins to rest.

After a what seemed like hours of tossing and turning, N'oenar found that sleep eluded him, though his body was bone-weary. With a sigh, he finally flung off the bedcovers and headed to the bridge. Sometimes the view of the stars was enough to calm his mind. He blinked when he reached the entrance to the bridge, surprised to see Keruck rather than Kerenne at the controls.

"Kerenne's asleep?"

"I hope so, since she's taking over soon." Keruck looked over at N'oenar. "You should be asleep, too."

"I know. I couldn't." N'oenar shrugged. "I won't bother you, if-"

"No, no, come in. There's not much piloting going on now, at this point. I just like to look at the stars – it's a soothing thing."

N'oenar smiled and took a seat near Keruck. "It is." They sat in silence for a time.

"I imagine your mind must be as busy as mine." Keruck sighed, looking at the viewscreen. "The stars bring some order to the thoughts, and it's easier to capture the sight of them than it is to meditate."

"Busy..." N'oenar nodded. "It's… I'm tired. Exhausted, even. But I can't seem to sleep, not with everything…"

"I understand." Keruck leaned forward, propping his elbows on his knees. "And I can't meditate right now, with my duties."

N'oenar laughed. "I suppose not." But his smile quickly faded. Keruck's keen gaze swept over him, and N'oenar felt as if he were laid bare before him. It was a feeling he'd had on other occasions – Master Yoda could do it, Master Dannew. Master Windu. Few others.

"Confusion fills you." Keruck let out a long breath. "I am sorry, young one, for what happened."

"It wasn't your fault."

"Nor was it yours."

"Was Jerner… were you close to him?" N'oenar saw Keruck's curious glance, and added in a rush, "I mean, I know you said it's no different than if it were another Jedi, but I didn't know if… I mean, all Jedi are connected, but some of them you feel more…" Not attachment. Well, that wasn't something he could say – attachment was, of course, forbidden. "More camaraderie with."

Keruck's face cleared and he looked back out at the stars. "We were – are – twins. I believe a certain bond comes with that, particularly when accompanied by the bond of the Force." He rubbed his chin with one hand. "The Council made certain we never served together, which was simple enough since we chose such different paths. I am – was – a negotiator. He was a Dark Jedi hunter…."

Silence fell, thick and heavy, before Keruck said, "But we were always aware of the other's movements."

"In the Force."

Keruck nodded, his head tilting so that the scar shone in the light. The cosmetics that Kerenne had applied had worn off, or he had washed them off. "Yes. But recently, for the past year, he'd been hidden from me more often than not. I didn't realize the true reason, just assumed it was distance, or our childhood bond fading away…"

"But it was the dark side."

"Yes. The dark side clouds everything." Keruck closed his eyes. "He was a good man. A good Jedi."

Not just a good Jedi, but a Jedi whose very mission was to hunt down Dark Jedi. Troubled, N'oenar looked out at the stars. Jerner hadn't always been evil; he hadn't always let the dark side control him. It couldn't have been a conscious desire, could it? What could convince a man like Jerner – a man committed to hunting down Dark Jedi – to turn to that path? Was it just an addiction of power, or something more sinister at work?

He sighed and looked down at his hands.

"You should sleep, N'oenar." Keruck touched his shoulder, and he jumped. "The last rest you had was an unnatural sleep, and that isn't as good for organizing thoughts."

"That makes sense. Maybe after I sleep…"

"Things will be clearer." 

"I think you're right." N'oenar stood and smiled. "Thank you for speaking with me."

"I hope we have more opportunities." Keruck waved him towards the bridge entrance. "Now, go and sleep."

---

_N'oenar walked along the edge of the lake, staring at the reflection of the three moons in the calm water. Dream, but based in memory. They were the most powerful…_

He stopped at one point along the lake's edge, frowning. This was the spot… where he'd talked to Kerenne so often. Where he'd talked to Jerner. And been offered knowledge, and guidance. The dark side.

Footsteps approached, and he didn't bother to look up. N'oenar knew who it was, and knew what he must say. "Jerner wasn't evil. He wasn't, not before. I can't share the same fate. I can't."

"It is often what happens, when one studies without a guide to lead the way. The dark side is powerful. You must smolder only."

"I can't do it – it's too hard!" N'oenar stopped and steadied himself. "Master, I don't think it can be done, to walk both and not be completely pulled-"

"It can."

"How do you know_?" N'oenar tightened his fists. "Have you felt it? The power? The rush… smolder, not blaze… do you have any idea how difficult that is? It can't be done!"_

"Ancient Roon will light the way."

N'oenar felt a rush of anger, but he tamped it down, breathing deep and thinking about his Master's words. "Vaapad," he said slowly, staring at Master Dannew. 

"Yes."

"There is information about it, in the archives there?"

"Yes."

"And it has something to do with the dark side."

"Not directly." Master Dannew looked at his face, then slowly nodded. "But, yes. The risk must be made, to protect that which is most precious."

"Risks… the dark side." N'oenar clenched his fists again. "You want me to become a Dark Jedi, like him_?"_

"No… not dark. A grey Jedi, perhaps. "

N'oenar pulled out his braid and stared at it, the line of dark brown lying limp across his palm. "Not a Jedi at all."

Master Dannew covered his hand with his own, pressing the braid firmly into his palm. It felt strangely warm. "It is a symbol, only."

"A symbol of what I'm not, anymore. Or what I won't be…"

"A Jedi is made from within, not by a symbol from without." Master Dannew's smile grew wistful, and he let his hand drop. "What you hold inside you, we cannot afford to lose. You own the survival of the Jedi order."

"Me?"

"You. Here," Master Dannew said, pointing to N'oenar's head. "And here." His hand drifted down until it was level with N'oenar's heart. 

"But-"

"If the code is not broken then it will fade, and blow away like dust from the memories of the living. Things broken can be remade, but things that fade and disappear are gone forever."

The words slid through his mind, and then his heart, slithering around it and twisting, pulling. It was difficult to resist. Difficult to… Realization hit him, then. "So persuasive. I begin to think it's not so bad, that it can be done… to use the dark side. Had you come right out, in the beginning, and said it…. This is why you speak riddles and nonsense."

"Would you have accepted it, otherwise?" 

"I don't accept it now!"

"You will." 

"More cryptic comments – why not just speak straight out? I already know what you want-"

"What I want… that's not the only reason. To communicate is not an easy task." Master Dannew folded his hands and watched him steadily. "Much of this is knowledge you already own."

"But… I didn't know this, before! I never knew that the dark side-"

"You knew. These things, from your subconscious they are." N'oenar blinked when Master Dannew waved a hand, and like a bright flame bursting to life, a memory returned to him. He had forgotten, had been encouraged_ to forget… years before… a glance at the forbidden texts his Master was studying… his Master leaving the room… he had pulled out the book, opened it, read…_

**It demands, it pulls… it whispers, a beautiful voice, beckoning, because the dark side is beautiful. At first. A beauty and power so sharp it is almost painful.**__

… had flipped the pages quickly, relying on his memory to hold it for later study and perusal…

**Sith look inward, the Jedi outward, a shining light for others to warm themselves.**

But this is a danger, for the warmth can bring threats ever closer, can draw them near – a star, sucking them in. The dark side shrouds itself, protection and darkness, a safe place from which to attack.__

…his mind had recoiled slightly at some of the words, the darkness, but still he kept going. He couldn't_ stop. Then, just as he was nearing the end, his Master had walked in, eyes keen and knowing as he slid the book from N'oenar's weak grasp. Fear had suffused him, fear of what his Master might do, fear of the reprimand, and fear of the words he had committed to memory. "It is too early for this, Padawan. Some day, a great philosopher you will be, and knowledge of this you will need. But for now-" Then, he had waved a hand in front of N'oenar's face. "-forget it. Bury it deep, until it is needed."_

How strong-minded do you have to be, when the command is something you want to follow?__

The clouds dispersed, and the memory was once again a part of his conscious mind, and he staggered from the weight of it and the knowledge he now held. He blinked, staring at Master Dannew in disbelief.

"The memory is true, and is now yours once again." Master Dannew nodded, his face calm. Serene. "You knew."

"I couldn't believe…"

"But you knew_." Master Dannew walked forward. "Buried deep, until it was needed." He held out his hand, and N'oenar looked down, expecting to see his Padawan braid. However, this time, Master Dannew held the handle of his lightsaber. "It is needed."_

He laid a hand on top of the lightsaber, caressing the smooth durasteel. The fabric strips were not surrounding it, not here, and he found that he had missed the beauty of the shining metal. "I can't."

"You must." Master Dannew let go of the saber, and it fell. N'oenar reached out to grab it, and as his hand closed around it, Master Dannew disappeared. An echo of a whisper met his ears: Hide. **Live**_._

N'oenar closed his eyes as the scene shifted, a nausea-inducing twist of his surroundings. He braced himself, wondering what sight would be revealed to him this time, and opened his eyes. Rather than a scene from present or past or future, one dealing with the dark side or the Jedi council, he saw Kerenne standing before him, a mischievous expression on her face. One hand lightly tapped her thigh sheath, and a slow smile spread as she moved towards him.

Knowing the end of the sequence all too well, he shook his head and stepped back when she grabbed his hands. Her fingers were warm as they pulled on his hands, but he shook his head, ignoring her frown.

"No. No, not again… come with me, this way. We can't go that way, the cliff_ is that way." He wouldn't follow this one through to the end, he wouldn't…. "Don't you _remember_?"_

And then she smirked at him, a secret smile tugging at her lips, and his resolve broke. With a sigh of surrender, he let himself be pulled, and forgot the approaching cliff's edge as her laughter rang out. Trees and lakes and shimmering crystal mountains passed in a blur, and then they were plunging over the edge of the cliff. He held onto her, pulled her to him, heard her laugh once more… and then his arms closed around empty air.

Kerenne had disappeared, but he was still falling…

He woke with a gasp, and was shocked when he felt a smooth hand cool on his forehead. Laying still for several heartbeats, he waited for his breathing to slow, the hand on his forehead helping to relax him. He knew it was Kerenne without even looking, the feel of her flesh against his familiar, though he'd felt it only rarely, except through dreams.

"I was loud, I guess." He kept his voice low, and his eyes closed. He was reluctant to open them, reluctant to meet Ayliana's knowing gaze. The cliff, again. What was Kerenne leading him to? And why did he follow so willingly?

"Not very. But _I_ heard." The emphasis was strange, and he wondered what it might mean. "No one else did. They would have, I think, but you quieted down when I…" 

He opened his eyes finally, and looked up at her. Her fingers trailed down his cheek and he had to catch his breath when he felt the same falling sensation he'd felt in his dream. _The cliff_. 

All of a sudden, she pulled her hand back with a jerk, and his senses screamed at him… a strange feeling, as if she were hiding something. He felt a cold chill slide through him at the thought.

"Sleep, N'oenar." Then she left. He stared at the ceiling for a long time before he was able to sleep again. 

The feeling didn't leave him the next day when he and Ayliana spoke with Kerenne about their trip. In fact, if anything it grew even stronger. He would have been more successful in ignoring it, had it not been for his dream. It was the first time the scene had shifted and only shown him one vision; a conversation about the dark side had shifted to a vision of Kerenne, and the cliff, and nothing else.

Kerenne turned to him, pointing out the location of the nebulosity's edge on the ship's holoprojector. "We'll get there today. I'll have some fun navigating the final bit – there's a gathering of moonlets and such surrounding Roon. It's no wonder you Jedi put a library out there, it's definitely well-hidden."

He studied the projected image of the Cloak of the Sith nebulosity, and nodded slowly. Well-hidden, and also a good location. It was difficult to pass communications through the Cloak, and so the databank portion of the archives would be non-redundant.

When N'oenar lifted his gaze to Kerenne, she smiled oddly and then looked away, and the feeling hit him again. Ayliana stared at him, and then her, and shook her head. Rising, she said, "If we'll be there today, I'm going to meditate, while I can."

"It'll be some hours, yet, but today is a definite."

Ayliana nodded and left the bridge, casting one last glance at them both before she headed to her cabin. 

Kerenne and N'oenar spoke some more, and the feeling continued unabated. Finally, he sought out Ayliana's advice. He couldn't keep it from her – if Kerenne was somehow connected to the dark side, then Ayliana was as much at risk as he was.

Even if, in his heart, he couldn't believe it. He trusted Kerenne… and Ayliana… they were the only two he trusted without reservation, and now the clawing suspicion threatened to break that trust.

Ayliana was alone in her cabin, preparing to meditate. "Ayliana, I need to… I need to talk to you."

She tilted her head and gestured for him to enter the room fully. As the door slid shut behind him, she asked, "What is it?"

"It's Kerenne. I've been sensing something… stronger these last days, and strongest today."

"What are you sensing?"

The words were difficult to get out. "She's hiding something." 

Ayliana stared at him for a moment, considering, then shook her head. "No. She's not."

"Yes. I can sense it – why can't you?" A sudden fear sliced through him – was Kerenne dark? Is that why he could sense it, but Ayliana…

"I sense it, N'oenar. Don't worry. It's…" She stopped, then smiled slightly. "Just don't worry about it. Trust me."

_Trust me._ He did trust Ayliana. There was no reason to not trust her, now. Was there?

"I can't think straight." He looked down at his hands, the sight a reminder of his dreams. His mind a jumble, he tried to find a single thread to cling to, something to give his thoughts rest, but he couldn't. "Ayliana, can you… do you remember when you helped me meditate?"

She smiled, the serene smile of a Jedi, and the very sight helped to calm him. Wordlessly, she backed up and motioned him to kneel in front of her. He followed her gestured command, and she guided him through the calming techniques, guided him to the Force. As he lost himself in it, clean and pure, he sent silent thanks to the Force for choosing Ayliana to accompany him on this undertaking.

---

Later that day, during the last leg of their journey, the four travelers gathered in the sitting area of the ship. Ayliana and Kerenne were bowed over the holochess table, Kerenne's brows furrowed in concentration as she tried to find a way out of the corner she'd been forced into. Finally she sat back and shook her head. "It's hopeless."

"That's what we both said, about an hour ago," N'oenar said with a grin. He and Keruck had been defeated early, leaving the two women to their drawn-out battle. Keruck chuckled and stood.

"True enough. But there might be something we can do a little better than holochess. Just a minute…" He disappeared from the room, returning a minute later with two practice sabers. He looked at N'oenar. "I didn't think Rohnid would miss two from his collection. If we move that table, there should be enough room here for a small bout. What do you say?"

N'oenar's heart beat faster as he recalled his practice duel with Jerner, when he'd first been able to put a name to the strange surge of power that he felt. The serenity that he'd held since his meditation with Ayliana left him, cold and barren, and he shook his head slightly.

"I don't know…" N'oenar stopped when he saw Ayliana watching him in concern, and with a sudden determination, he stood. "Let's go, then."

Grabbing the practice saber, he hefted it in his hand. It was well-balanced, and very similar to his own in shape, though without the fabric strip that was wrapped around his own hilt. It was the first time he'd held a saber – of any kind – since his duel with Jerner, and it felt strange, almost foreign. Swallowing his nervousness, he stepped forward to stand in front of Keruck. He could hold it back. He _would_ hold it back.

The first swing took him by surprise, and he barely parried in time. Forcing his attention to the duel, he concentrated, mostly forced to defend. He waited for an opening, a chance to turn the table and attack instead….

At the edges of his awareness, something moved, and he could sense _something_ reaching for him. He ignored it, concentrating hard, letting years of training guide his movements, and the claws slipped away. A fleeting feeling of triumph, then Keruck's swing brought his mind back to the duel, and he fought with renewed vigor. However, his skills were not a match for a fully-trained Jedi Knight, and he was soon defeated. 

Breathing hard, he leaned against the wall. Would he ever be able to use the Force again without that awareness hovering at the edge of his mind? The awareness that, should he but wish it, more power than he'd ever imagined could be wielded by his hands… quick and ready, without years of study and training. Then he realized – such power… what if he had studied? How much more power would that lend him?

His thoughts were interrupted when Keruck reached for the practice saber. He handed it to the Jedi, glad to see that Keruck, also, was out of breath. "A good bout, Padawan. With a year's more practice, you'll likely have me on my back in minutes."

"I don't know about that." _Power…_ Had he let the claws take him, he would have won that moment. That very moment. Without years and years of practice….

Keruck grabbed a small cloth from his pack, tossing one to N'oenar. As he wiped his face, Kerenne approached. "So. The rumors aren't true, then." She smirked when he looked up at her. "Jedi _do_ sweat, the same as everyone else."

He couldn't help but laugh, and as she smiled back, the final bits of that dark awareness left him.

For a time.

Later, after Kerenne left to handle the final navigational adjustments, N'oenar went to his cabin to rest. He felt lighter after the duel and Kerenne's teasing, and realized that the duel had gone quite well. He'd avoided using the dark side, even though it had stayed in his sight, waiting. Maybe he could do this, after all.

"Take care, young one." 

The voice startled him and he turned to see Keruck standing in the doorway. When N'oenar's eyes met his, the Jedi Knight entered the cabin, his expression serious.

"What do you mean, take care?"

"I sense the conflict in you."

N'oenar stared at Keruck, his mind and body frozen. Numb.

"It would take very little to send you plummeting over that edge," Keruck continued, stepping forward and folding his hands serenely in front of him.

"I've…." N'oenar looked away. "There are many cliffs."

"Attachment is one. The dark side is another." When N'oenar's head jerked back, Keruck nodded. "There comes a time in every Jedi's life when he or she is tempted. It is, I believe, the Force's way of weeding out the non-committed."

"Have you been tempted?"

"I did say in every Jedi's life."

N'oenar fell silent, then took a deep breath and turned to Keruck. The man's profile was calm, strong, solid. "What… what happened?"

"Something I wanted, something I wanted more than I wanted my own life." Keruck closed his eyes for a moment. "The dark side is powerful. It tempts, it lures. It seems as if it would be a comfort to fall into its power."

"You know much."

"I've learned much. It beckoned to me, once, but I realized quickly that it was too dangerous. The rewards were great, but the payment was even greater. I wasn't willing to make that payment."

N'oenar could barely breathe for the cold fear that stabbed him. Swallowing hard, he shook his head, an involuntary movement. Keruck's eyes were on him, the weight difficult to bear.

"Just… take care. Especially now."

N'oenar nodded silently and reached into his pocket, running one finger along the uneven line of his braid. After a moment, Keruck reached out and put a hand on N'oenar's shoulder, squeezing briefly, and then turned and left the room.

N'oenar stared after the other man for a long time, then turned to the mirror, studying his reflection. Would he be willing to make that payment? Would he even be able to?

Those were questions he couldn't answer.

---

When they approached Roon's atmosphere, Kerenne called everyone to the bridge. They watched together as the planet drew nearer, the indistinct bluish green masses becoming individual shapes and colors. 

"It's beautiful," N'oenar said. "I just wish I'd seen it before Gabris Prime. It's hard to top blue and red crystal mountains."

"A tough act to follow, Gabris Prime," Keruck agreed. "But every planet has a beauty of its own."

Roon certainly had it. The lit side of it, at any rate. The planet was tide-locked, and one part remained in constant night. The part that saw the light of day, however, was breathtaking. Brilliant blue seas covered much of the surface, broken by bits of deep green.

Kerenne frowned at the datapad Sarn had given her. "The coordinates are near the edge of the nightfall area, or whatever they call it." She tapped out a few sequences on the control pad, watching the readouts closely as they neared the surface, skimming along just under the wispy cloud cover.

As they approached the edge, N'oenar was amazed by the contrast between the two halves. It was almost as if a line had been cut with a lightsaber, separating light and dark, with very little twilight area.

"And here we are," Kerenne announced, landing the craft quickly but with great skill. "Look – there's Sarn. He must've waited for us." She reached out and pressed the ramp control, and a hiss sounded as it lowered.

"Zehrid, also," Ayliana said, pointing out the dark figure just emerging from the other ship. Without another word, Kerenne stood and hurried to the ramp, passing Sarn and heading straight to her brother. N'oenar and the others followed at a more reasonable pace.

Once N'oenar set foot on the soil, he felt a tremor go through him. Something pulled at him, pulled him towards the twilight area, towards the nightfall area. He stared in that direction, opening his senses to feel, frowning when he couldn't put a name to the sensation.

Kerenne had already reached Zehrid, and had him in a tight embrace several yards away when Sarn met the others. "Made it, I see. Zehrid and I have been here for a few hours," Sarn said, smiling brightly. "Been to visit my contact, and learned a few interesting tidbits."

Once Kerenne noticed the others had left the ship, she pulled Zehrid over. They crowded around the tall man, making certain he was whole. Finally, Sarn cleared his throat.

"Yes, yes, he's in one piece and my bacta tank is proven to, once again, be a good purchase," Sarn said, his tone acerbic but the smile evident in his expression. "Now, let him breathe and I'll tell you what news I have from my contact."

N'oenar grinned and stepped back, nodding. "What did you hear?"

"He said he saw them, the Jedi, now and again. They came for supplies and information – he's rather fond of them, Udoro is."

_At least someone is,_ N'oenar thought.

"The archives must be close," Keruck said, looking at N'oenar and Ayliana. "Did either of you ever hear where it was placed?"

Ayliana shook her head. "I didn't know it existed, until N'oenar mentioned it."

N'oenar closed his eyes, opening himself again to the Force. The pull was still there… perhaps there was a reason. "I think it's that way. In the dark area of the planet."

Sarn nodded. "That's what Udoro said. He'd been there once before – gave me the coordinates, but I had to practically swear on everything dear to me that I meant no harm."

Zehrid nodded. "He also said he saw a good number of them leaving weeks back, and they haven't returned."

"The homing beacon," Keruck muttered. "The Force was in such turmoil, so much loss… I didn't follow the 'all clear' order that was broadcast. It was changed in less than a day to a 'stay away' message."

"Some must have stayed," N'oenar said, looking at Keruck. "They wouldn't leave the archives without a presence."

"I believe you're right, N'oenar." Keruck nodded. "I think we need to avoid wasting any time. I'd like to see what they've heard, these Jedi."

N'oenar nodded. The pull was still there, the draw, and he fancied that it was a promise of knowledge, of clarity. Knowledge is precious, as Master Dannew said. Precious. 

It took little time to pilot the ships to the coordinates Sarn's friend had given them. N'oenar was at the edge of his seat the entire time, his body tense, his senses wide open, waiting to feel any spark, anything. The dark side of the planet was a deep black, cut only by occasional pale lights from the ground and the brighter lights of their ships. The stars, also, shone brightly overhead, as N'oenar noted when they left the ships at a small landing pad outside of what appeared to be a large stone building cut into the side of a rocky mountain.

As he walked with the others to the entrance, he clung to Master Dannew's assurances like a lifeline. He would know, soon. He would learn the truth behind cryptic statements, would study, would find another way besides the path Master Dannew had presented to him.

_A beauty and power so sharp it was almost painful._

There _had_ to be another way. And he would find it.

Soon, he would meet with some of the great philosophers and archivists of the Jedi, or so he hoped. Some had left, as Sarn's contact had indicated… most of them had probably gone. However, it was unlikely that they had left the archives without any presence at all. And that draw he felt… there _was_ something here, in the archives, that he needed. It was the will of the Force. Some of them had to still be there, someone to answer his questions, to make things clear.

Yet, there was another feeling, a growing sense of dread, that he couldn't place a finger on. He kept his hand on his saber as they approached the entrance to the archives.

A carving above the rough-hewn entryway caught his attention, and he nudged Ayliana, nodding up at it. **Alter ideas, and you alter the world.**

Kerenne followed his gaze. "Makes sense enough."

"Something's not right." Ayliana frowned, staring up at the carving, then shaking her head. "Something's…"

"I feel it, also," Keruck said as he passed them and headed for the door.

N'oenar gripped his saber tightly. So he wasn't the only one who felt it, that growing sense of something _amiss_. And yet, even while that feeling took shape, the draw that had pulled at him ever since landing on this planet hadn't slackened. If anything, it had grown stronger.

"No way to call inside… and it's sealed."

"Normally, Temples are open to all." Ayliana's hand was also on her saber, the dark feeling weighing down on them all. Kerenne and Sarn were even affected by it; or perhaps, N'oenar acknowledged, the tenseness of the Force users was affecting them. 

"Times have changed," he murmured, watching as Keruck studied the door and the surrounding area. "If the standard code doesn't work… I know another."

Keruck turned and gave him a measuring look, then he nodded. "I'll try the standard code first." Turning back to the door, Keruck pressed a code into the small entry pad affixed to the stone and the door slid open without resistance. N'oenar relaxed slightly - he had half-expected it to have a secondary code requirement to enter the archives. The relaxation was only temporary, however. When Keruck stepped over the threshold into the library he sucked in a breath, and N'oenar's grip on his saber tightened as Sarn asked, "What is it?"

"Someone was here before us."

Kerenne's response was instant. "What do you mean? Who?" She began to walk forward but, just then, the draw overwhelmed N'oenar. Without thought, he edged in front of her, brushing past Keruck to step through the entrance into a gray stone antechamber.

Once inside, he stopped, memory and reality colliding, and he sank down to the cool stone floor. Some Jedi were still here, as he'd expected. Just a few… but he wouldn't be able to ask any questions of them. 

Slowly, he reached out his hand to touch a light brown robe, the mass of cloth crumpled around a limp form. Though he tried to ignore the uneven pattern of circles burnt into the Jedi's robe, he was unable to keep his eyes from focusing on the darker brown of dried blood, centered in rings of black char.

The black char of blaster bolts.


	18. Chapter 17

Note: Thank you to everyone who's commented and is still reading! I hope you enjoy the chapter. Many thanks to Buttercup for her beta work!

_**Severing the Past**_

**WendyNat**

Chapter 17  
-------------

N'oenar remained kneeling on the floor while the others entered the sanctuary. He saw Keruck's boots pass him and he looked up, watching the other man's face as he scanned the room. Keruck's fist clenched, knuckles white as he knelt beside one lean body and gently closed the staring eyes with his other hand. With a jolt, N'oenar realized that the Jedi Knight might have known some of the fallen, might have served with them at some point. He knew, all too well, how stark that pain felt.

Ayliana also moved among the bodies, scanning them closely. The silence thickened until her low voice broke it. "Blasters. Most of them, anyway."

"Most of them? Are… are there any…" N'oenar stopped, unable to continue, and Keruck looked at him.

"Any what?"

Ayliana understood, though, and she quickly shook her head. "No. None of them were… there aren't any saber wounds."

He let out a shaky breath. So Vader hadn't been here, then. _Skywalker_ hadn't been here. Likely the Emperor had heard of the location and just ordered a quick massacre. Or some lone Jedi could have sought shelter here, and been followed. He bit his lip, hoping that their own passage had gone undetected.

Kerenne moved closer, putting a hand on his arm. He could feel some of the tension leave him at the touch, but it returned when she spoke. "I've never seen… they're Jedi. How many troopers did they have here, to be able to kill all of these?"

He shook his head mutely. He had wondered the same thing. Would a single regiment have been enough? Or had they descended on this Jedi sanctuary with force, as they had the temple on Coruscant?

"I mean, I've seen some… some things, but this is bad."

N'oenar didn't tell her that it was a pale echo of the horror that had covered the Jedi Temple, after the massacre. Ayliana caught his gaze and they stared at each other, the shared memory creating a bond between them, through the Force. He clung to it, a steady lifeline, a comfort. Her essence pulsed in the Force, and acted as a steady reminder that he wasn't alone.

"They fought well," Keruck said, his eyes fixed on the floor near the entrance, where a number of blood stains spread across the stone floor – far from any of the fallen Jedi. Troopers normally took the dead with them, but the evidence remained.

Zehrid sighed as he stood. He had been inspecting some of the fallen Jedi near the main entrance. "We should leave."

"Actually," Sarn said, pacing slowly around the entrance hall, "we're probably safer here than anywhere at the moment. The troops have already come and gone."

"True, but it's a little… unpleasant." 

"A little?" Kerenne snorted. "Gabris Prime is out for a while, but there's always Jabiim."

"Jabiim's a possibility." Sarn rubbed his chin. "However… let's not forget there's a reason we came to this place, isn't there? Aside from meeting up with other Jedi?"

Ayliana nodded. "Research. Saving the knowledge… we should save the knowledge."

"We have to." N'oenar's voice was unyielding.

Keruck nodded slowly, his eyes searching N'oenar closely. "I think that would be wise. But first, we must honor the vessels that remain."

N'oenar bowed his head. _Honor the vessels._ There had been no Jedi left to cremate the bodies that remained in the Temple on Coruscant. He wondered if the Empire had bothered with the pretense, or if they'd just razed the Jedi Temple to the ground. Kerenne's hand tightened on his arm, bringing him back to the present, and he looked at her before nodding. "We will honor the vessels."

The effort was long, but with three Force users working together, it wasn't as impossible a task as it might have seemed at first. They searched each chamber of the archives, bringing the bodies to the funeral chamber that Keruck found. As he pulled his hood forward, N'oenar heard Sarn assure Zehrid that no smoke would be seen on the dark side of the planet.

N'oenar had attended honorings before, of course – one couldn't live at the Jedi Temple without experiencing it at some point – but this solemn ceremony was the first in which he'd actively participated. It was certainly the first he'd attended where those being honored outnumbered those doing the honoring.

Keruck, as the eldest, raised the first body to the stone bier in the center of the chamber. It was of the same stone as the rest of the sanctuary, plain and unadorned. His eyes were closed as he concentrated, fingers spreading as he encouraged the flames to rise around the body.

"There is no death; there is the Force."

The chant and motions were repeated for each body, and N'oenar gained a new appreciation for the honoring. To feel the Force flowing through himself to the fallen Jedi, to the stone bier, to the flames which rose at his urging, was a humbling experience. He was a small part of this existence, but each part was a key to the entire whole.

"There is no death; there is the Force."

To N'oenar's surprise, the three non-Force users remained in the chamber while the honoring was performed, a silent show of support. He was glad of it, as he was glad of Ayliana's steady presence, and Keruck's strong one. The Force connected them all.

Ayliana performed the final honoring. Ayliana bowed her head before lifting her hands to guide the wizened body of a Master to the bier, the eldest of those they had found. As the flames rose high around those venerable features, N'oenar swallowed hard. He closed his eyes, and joined the flow of the Force through the chamber, picturing the fellow Jedi that had fallen at the Jedi Temple, the Padawans, Masters, Knights, and younglings. And, silently, he honored them, too.

They left the chamber once the final ember had died. Once everyone was in the corridor, Zehrid said, "There were fewer than I'd thought, at first." 

"But still too many." Keruck's voice was low, coming from deep within his hood. "Far too many."

N'oenar shuddered, and Kerenne squeezed his arm. "We should all sleep soon."

"I've got to eat first," Zehrid said, and N'oenar couldn't hold back a chuckle, glad for the presence of Kerenne's brother. He could lighten the mood of any group, even one leaving a funeral honoring; it was a rare gift. "Let's check out this knowledge you're so worried about, and then settle in."

There were three separate research chambers that made up the archive collection, rather than one larger room. As they inspected each, N'oenar realized that the unusual formation was due to the way the Jedi architects had followed the natural ebb and flow of the stone as they carved the sanctuary out of the mountainside.

As they entered the final chamber, he placed one hand on the smooth, cool wall of the corridor, feeling the living Force flowing through the mountain… the beings and creatures that lived on it, far above them… the chambers and corridors and texts inside, all connected by the stone and by the Force… he followed the wall as it wound around the final research chamber… texts… data crystals filled with knowledge hidden among the texts… data systems emptied of information… and then something else… something missing, or something hidden….

His eyes sprang open. "Something's wrong here."

"I'd say there're a lot of things wrong here," Zehrid said, staring at the dark brown stains that marred the smooth floor. They had been too tired to deal with cleaning the stains in all of the rooms that evening. "Maybe we should stay in the ships tonight."

Sarn shook his head immediately. "No, no. It's better if they stay powered down - harder to trace, that way. This place, inside, is well-shielded."

"That's not what I meant, Zehrid. It's not…" N'oenar studied the room. "It's not a being, it's…." Suddenly, it hit him: all of these texts were new, the bindings fresh and smooth. "Where are the texts?"

"Texts? They're in all of these rooms, see right-"

"No, no, not those. Older ones. Ancient ones." N'oenar strode past the others, searching the shelves. They were all newer volumes, not the cracked and aged ones he was looking for, and none of them were covered by the protective clear coating that the Masters had treated the oldest texts with. The pull that had been masked first by the shock of their discovery and then by the gravity of the honoring ritual was back, but he couldn't tell from which direction it came.

"Ancient ones?" Ayliana moved beside him.

"The texts – I helped prepare them for the journey, ancient texts." _Forbidden texts._ He swallowed when he noticed mottled dark brown stain on a few of the bindings, and a blackened circle of char on another. Pulling the blaster-marked volume from the shelf, he opened it and let out a breath when he saw the inside pages were undamaged. "We sent them here, for safety, before the attacks on Coruscant. Something's missing. Something we're not seeing…" He replaced the book, rubbing his forehead, and felt Keruck's hand on his shoulder.

"I think Kerenne is right – we all need to eat, and then sleep."

"Eating was _my_ idea, not hers," Zehrid muttered, and N'oenar couldn't help but smile. The tall man grinned and swung his pack up onto a nearby table, pulling out a few packages of food. He tossed one to each of them. "Dinner's served. Ambience is a bit lacking, of course – Jedi aren't very colorful, are they?"

"What do you mean?"

"All this blank stone, no decorations…" Zehrid peered at the wall that held the databank access terminals. "There's some color on those datascreens, but that's about it."

Kerenne swallowed and shrugged. "They had those red chairs in the other library room."

Zehrid snorted. "Who heard of chairs with no backs?"

Ayliana shared a smile with N'oenar. "Those are meditation chairs," she said, wiping her fingers on her tunic. "They're actually fairly comfortable."

"I'll take your word for it."

Keruck looked at Zehrid and smiled. "Well, you might be happy with the sleeping chambers, at least. They're likely more comfortable than the cot in Sarn's ship."

"My cot is quite comfy, thank you," Sarn said, standing. "Of course, the second one in the ship isn't so much, but that's beside the point."

"Definitely beside the point." Kerenne laughed softly and pushed her chair back. "Lead on, Keruck. It's past my bedtime."

They followed Keruck to the sleeping chambers, many of which looked to have been unoccupied for some time. Recalling Sarn's contact's information, N'oenar guessed that they had belonged to some of the Jedi that fled. Whoever they had belonged to, the beds were comfortable, and sleep was delayed only long enough for N'oenar to toss off boots and shirt and lie down.

_N'oenar stood in the now-familiar corridor, staring at the wall. The first line was completely gone, and the third line was crumbling. Soon it, too, would disappear._

"Like a poorly mended arm, it must be re-broken to be healed."

He turned to see Master Dannew behind him, the Jedi's eyes fixed on the wall in front of them. "Master, I don't understand."

"You will. Much that is now hidden will be revealed soon."

"When?"

"Soon."

With an irritated breath, N'oenar turned back to the wall.

"There are few true Jedi left, that follow the Code." Master Dannew moved beside him.

"Keruck." N'oenar turned to his Master. "He's one."

"Yes. And your other companion."

"Ayliana?"

Master Dannew nodded. "That one is a Jedi, through and through. Great knights, great heroes they become, these Keepers of the Faith."

N'oenar stared at the wall, his eyes drawn to the third line, and the dust gathering in the engraved letters. There is no passion; there is serenity._ Break the Code to save it. Would Ayliana, or even Keruck, do that, even if it meant saving it? He had no answer. "And what of the Keepers of the Knowledge?"_

"Great philosophers, they become. You… I knew you for what you were, the moment I saw you."

N'oenar looked at Master Dannew, struck by the reminiscent smile on his master's face. "How?"

"You were taller than the other younglings, and tried to slouch to match their height. Not to avoid attention for yourself, but to avoid sparking disappointment in the others." N'oenar smiled, remembering. "But when some new thought or theory would come to your mind, you would forget and straighten to your full height, and I could see you, could see that tall, dark-haired boy with the thoughtful eyes. I could see the questioning in those eyes. Always questioning, always."

"Is that… is that when you decided to pledge as my Master?" N'oenar stared at his Master. He had always assumed it was his gift of complete recall that had earned him his place at Master Dannew's side – the Master Historian wasn't known for taking many. He had, in fact, only taken one Padawan before N'oenar, and that woman had become a Master in her own right before N'oenar was even born.

Master Dannew nodded. "I had to pledge early – many wanted you under their wing. Your early saber skills were quite advanced. But a harsher, less understanding Master would have quelled that questioning, and I knew that could not happen. The Force had spoken to me. You would become a great philosopher. A master of the Force, living and breathing the theory and the truth."

N'oenar closed his eyes as a burning regret filled him. "That's not going to happen now."

"Isn't it? The duty of the great philosophers is to comb and filter through the vast knowledge owned by the Jedi, spreading that which most could hear and understand, and retaining in silence that which would destroy the weak." Master Dannew traced the second line with a finger. There is no ignorance; there is knowledge._ "Most of the greats learned of the dark and the light, and came to recognize the value of each."_

"Master Yoda-"

"Yes. He was a great philosopher."

"And… and Master Windu?"

"Yes. Though he was not so wise in the ways as Yoda, he did learn of both. And used both."

"Used both?"

"Yes." Master Dannew folded his hands, the serenity of the Jedi embodied. "You will learn. The knowledge lies at your fingertips."

"Vaapad."

"And more. Much more. Go. Learn."

  
N'oenar woke, staring into the silent darkness. The pull was back, but this time it was a teasing whisper rather than a harsh tug. Tired, mind clouded with thoughts upon thoughts, he didn't even attempt to resist the enticing whisper. He followed its will, rising from the bed and leaving the room without stopping to don shoes or shirt. The floor was cold against his bare feet, but the stone was smoother than he would have imagined.

_Vaapad_.

He walked slowly along the shelves in the first research chamber, letting the Force guide him. The subtle pull finally brought him in front of a shelf in the far corner, and he immediately saw a volume that could begin – perhaps – to answer some of his questions.

The Seven Forms of Lightsaber Defense

Defense, always. It had been drilled into them from the moment they first picked up the short practice sabers, their movements too clumsy, their limbs too inexperienced to even consider a true saber. The Force was to be used for knowledge and defense, never for attack. But how did one truly defend, without eventually attacking?

He sat at one of the round tables, laying the text out before him. The pages made little noise when he turned them, their edges crisp and straight; it was a newer volume, and one he didn't recognize. It was likely that it had been penned here, in Roon, a compilation of various other volumes and research. 

Flipping the pages quickly, he scanned each, and then stopped, staring at one particular passage. No. It was impossible. He slumped against the back of the chair, hissing when the cold material touched his flesh, and looked at the open text.

That was how Ayliana found him, minutes later, when she stopped in the entranceway to the room. Her hair was a jumble, and it looked like she had been tossing and turning for some time. "N'oenar? I saw the light…"

"I couldn't sleep."

"Me, either. Can I-"

"Come on in."

She came closer, looking down at the text, and then took a seat across from him. "Vaapad. What have you learned?"

Sighing, he propped his forehead in his hands, staring down at the page. "More of the same. Did you know… it uses the dark side. Vaapad does."

"I… I thought it was a subform of Juyo."

"It is. But it uses anger, emotions – the dark emotion – to lend it power."

Ayliana sucked in a breath. "You're not going to-"

"No. No, I can't… this is impossible." He looked up at her. "How can he think I could do this? Master Windu took years to perfect the form, to learn to channel the dark side to something good." The volume had also mentioned that it was due to Master Windu's strong connection to the light side of the Force that allowed him to control it, to keep him from succumbing to the dark side as the other two masters of Vaapad had. "Master Windu's own Padawan fell to the dark side, learning to master it!"

Ayliana chewed her lower lip. "Maybe Master Dannew wants you to learn the concept, but not the form itself."

"It's the same thing. Jerner didn't want to go dark, these two Jedi didn't mean to go dark… if they couldn't resist it, how could I?"

"Since you know the danger-"

He laughed dryly. "Jerner was a Dark Jedi hunter. I'm sure he knew the dangers."

"Maybe he didn't care. He seemed more… more willing to gamble, than Keruck does," Ayliana said. "I'm sure there's another way, N'oenar."

N'oenar shoved his chair back from the table and stood, pacing back and forth. "The shroud, everything I've seen so far looks like it needs the dark side to maintain it. How am I supposed to do that, without…" He trailed off, clenching his fists. It was an impossible task.

"I don't know, N'oenar. I wish… I wish we'd come here sooner. We took too long getting here."

He didn't look at her. "What could we have done?" _What good did we do at the Temple?_

"Asked some of these questions. Warned them, maybe. I don't know." The tone of her voice was emptier than he'd ever heard it, and he turned to look at her, studying her face.

"You dreamt."

She nodded.

"What was it? What did you see?"

"Master Dannew." She rubbed her face.

"What did he say?"

"Worlds will not be saved nor destroyed by your actions, but lives of individuals will be saved and minds will be swayed, and to some that is of more importance than even the death of a world."

They stared at each other for long moments in silence, her words – the words of Master Dannew – heavy between them. Finally, N'oenar spoke. "What's happening to us?"

"I don't know, N'oenar. I don't know."

---

The next day, they began to remove the texts and remaining data crystals, organizing them in sections at N'oenar's insistence. It would be impossible to organize later, once they were separated into the two ships, and a few hours spent in the beginning could save several days in the future. The methodical labor also served to calm N'oenar's thoughts, and to distract him from the conversations he'd had during the night.

"Why they couldn't just use datapads, like civilized beings, is beyond me," Zehrid muttered, flipping through one of the thinner wood-bound texts.

"It's a good thing they didn't, or there wouldn't be much left to save," Ayliana pointed out. N'oenar nodded. Most of the systems had been wiped clean, though not all – some data crystals placed among the texts had remained unscathed, which was more proof that Vader hadn't accompanied the troopers. Skywalker wouldn't have missed such a detail,. Considering the rumored data capacity of Roon crystals, N'oenar had great hopes that much of the archived knowledge could be preserved. Much of it was likely already in the crystals, and what wasn't could easily be uploaded before they left.

"Some Jedi still prefer to pen their thoughts – particularly the historians and… and philosophers. Master Dannew said it was a more organic experience with the Force." N'oenar straightened, looking around at the various piles. There was a set of books that he was keeping a close eye on – he was certain he'd recognized Master Windu's penmanship in one small volume, and the others dealt with rare lightsaber techniques. "Most of these, though, are older texts. They didn't always have datapads, you know, not the modern type. The older versions, before the new crystals were discovered, weren't as reliable as-"

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry I said anything." With a sigh, Zehrid shut the book and looked at N'oenar. "I'm getting hungry."

"That's a shock," Kerenne said, knuckling her back as she straightened. "You're hungry, and I'm getting tired. I need to sit." The Roon crystals held a great deal of information, but N'oenar had discovered that the older texts hadn't yet been transferred to the newer storage system. To judge by the number of bodies they had found in the library rooms, it was a project that many of the archivists had been immersed in when the attack occurred.

Sarn cleared his throat, and when he spoke his voice was strangely tentative. "I don't think we ought to go into the supplies we brought if we don't have to…" He looked at Keruck and the padawans. "That is, if you've no objections…"

"Sustenance is for the living, and to feed the Living Force would honor those fallen more than letting any food that is left go to waste." Keruck smiled and placed a hand on Sarn's shoulder, squeezing briefly. "But thank you for asking."

Zehrid tossed the text down but missed the pile, and they all winced when the loud bang of wood hitting stone echoed through the chamber. "Sorry about that. Anyway, do you know where they keep the kitchen around here?" 

Keruck nodded. "I found it while we were... searching, earlier. Come with me, I'll show you."

While Keruck and Zehrid went in search of food, the others took a short break, dragging together some of the round meditation chairs that were scattered through the research chamber. Organizing the texts was a heavy, dusty task, and Kerenne wasn't the only one feeling the fatigue from the morning's exercise.

N'oenar and Ayliana settled immediately on two of the backless chairs, folding their legs under them in the formal meditation pose. When the two padawans realized what they'd done, they shared a small smile – the habit was deeply ingrained.

"So," Sarn began conversationally. "When you folks are done here, did you have any plans?"

Ayliana tilted her head. "Well, I thought Jabiim-"

"No, no, after that. When everything is settled again."

Ayliana and N'oenar looked at each other, and N'oenar was both relieved and concerned that she appeared as lost as he felt. Master Dannew's talk of birds and silver cages and two tasks did little to guide him. "I'm… I don't know."

Sarn took a seat on one backless round chair, wincing as he tried to mimic the padawans' position. "Too old for that, I think!" he said, then put both feet flat on the floor with a chuckle.

"Old," Kerenne scoffed, dropping onto one of the seats. "I'd wager you could outrun any of us."

"Depends on what's chasing me." Sarn winked at her. "But the age is creeping up on me. You know, it'd be right useful on purchasing trips, to have some younger bodies around. If you didn't have other plans, of course."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, Rohnid mentioned it, before all the excitement. If you're interested, there's a spot for all of you with the shop. It'd be nice to have more purchasers than just me," Sarn said, his eyes twinkling, "especially folks who could sense deception. And a couple of more faces for the front wouldn't go amiss, either. We'd be happy for the help."

N'oenar rubbed the back of his neck. "So much has changed… I'm not really sure what I'm going to do in the long term. What I can do."

"Long term? Oh, simple enough. Get a job, start a shop, get married. All those normal things."

"Married? Me? I-" N'oenar felt his cheeks go warm. He dared a glance at Kerenne and she quickly averted her eyes, meeting Ayliana's gaze instead. With a sigh, he shook his head. "I can't, and even if… it's too dangerous. I'll – we'll – be on the run, even after this is over." _If this is ever over._

"Some women are so used to danger of one kind or another that it'd almost be unnatural to have it any other way," Kerenne said. When Ayliana raised an eyebrow, Kerenne looked away, the fingers of one hand playing with the hilt of her knife. "But most of those aren't really the marrying type, I suppose."

N'oenar stared at her. From the corners of his vision, he could see Sarn's satisfied smile, and Ayliana's cheerless one.

"It's forbidden for a Jedi to marry," Ayliana said, her voice soft.

Sarn snorted. "Always thought that was a silly rule, really. A wife – it gives a man something to fight for." His eyes flicked to Ayliana and Kerenne and he winked. "Or a woman, of course."

"Of course," Ayliana drawled. She opened her mouth to comment further, but a shout from the corridor stopped her.

"Come on, all of you! We found something!"

Bewildered, they looked at each other for a split second before jumping up and heading towards Zehrid's voice. Ayliana almost ran into Keruck when she turned the corner, and after muttering a quick apology, Keruck gestured them to follow. Zehrid fell in next to his brother as Keruck explained.

"This way. I sensed… maybe what you've been sensing this whole time, N'oenar. The kitchen – who would have thought? It has a hidden door in the rear, and I found… well, just follow us."

Keruck and Zehrid led them through the corridors to the kitchen, and as they walked, the pull began to nag at N'oenar again, growing stronger with each step. At one end of the long kitchen, a dark opening led to a set of dim stairs, leading down. When Ayliana paused to inspect some spots on the top stair, Keruck urged them on, but not before N'oenar saw what had caught Ayliana's attention.

Blood stains.

When he looked up, he saw Kerenne staring at him. Wordlessly, she fell in beside him as they descended the stairs. Ahead of them, Keruck called out, "Be careful, it's pretty dark between the lights." 

N'oenar blinked, surprised to see the flickering light of a torch flame rather than the typical glowbulbs that were used. A sliver of hope – a luxury he was loath to allow himself – slid through him. Many of the more traditional Masters preferred natural light, particularly when working with the older texts that could be damaged by the more intense lights used in glowbulbs. The memory of an ancient text, heavy in his hands, brown pages inscribed with theories and thoughts both dark and knowledgeable, filled his mind. 

To distract himself, he looked around, though his range of sight was fairly short. Beside him, glints of bronze showed in Kerenne's wild curls, standing out from the darker color that normally dominated. Maybe there were other advantages to natural light, he mused.

They reached the bottom of the stairs, the sound of their boots on the stone floor echoing through the dim corridor. N'oenar saw what had caught Keruck's attention immediately – another fallen Jedi lay on the cold floor, her hand covered in what appeared to be cracked paint.

The substance had dried to a deep brown, but it was unmistakably blood. Small flakes had fallen from the bent fingers to the stone, and the tiny specks stirred slightly when Ayliana knelt beside the body.

"The trail started in the kitchen, possibly beyond that before we cleaned the area," she murmured. "Why would she have come down here?" 

"Injured, her brothers and sisters fallen around her, and she made her way here." Keruck shook his head. "That's why I called you, when I found the hidden stair, and her body."

"There must be something down here, or why would she have made the trek?" Sarn said, his voice low.

"Exactly. And why would it have been covered by a hidden door." Keruck shook his head. "But it's a blank corridor – there's nothing on either end. Well, nothing that I can see."

Suddenly, the pull overcame N'oenar, greater than before, and he walked forward without thought. As he passed the body, he noticed that one finger lay at an odd angle, separate from the others. A chill slid down his spine when he realized that the blood-encrusted digit was pointing straight ahead, at the wall. "Her last message," N'oenar whispered.

"What?" Ayliana looked up at him, frowning when he turned to the stairs behind them and pulled one torch from the wall, its flickering flame casting strange shadows as he carried it in front of him. He held his breath as he brought the light in front of the wall, and then let it out in a rush when he recognized the carved words, each swirl and line and loop more familiar to him now than his own face.

The Jedi Code.

The wall from his dreams.

It was real.


	19. Chapter 18

**_Note: _**Thanks to everyone who's reading. I apologize for the tardiness of this chapter, but I must admit it was the most difficult one I've written so far. I sincerely hope you enjoy it, and any and all feedback is appreciated!

Many thanks to Buttercup for her awesome beta services!

_**Severing the Past**_

**WendyNat**

Chapter Eighteen  
---------------------

N'oenar stared at the wall, the others silent as they watched him. It was the wall from his dreams; however, on this wall, the first line of the Code was still intact. The pull was indescribable, now. Feverishly, N'oenar's eyes scanned the familiar words, the deep engraving all that marred the smooth surface of the stone.

_There is no emotion; there is peace.  
There is no ignorance; there is knowledge.  
There is no passion; there is serenity.  
There is no death; there is the Force._

"Behind the wall. It's behind the wall," he said, almost gasping from the battering on his senses. Something on the other side of that wall had a connection to him through the Force, a giant star pulling him closer…. How to get through? 

Zehrid rapped his knuckles on the stone. "I don't know. Looks pretty solid to me."

"There must be a hidden opening of some sort…" Ayliana murmured, running her hands along the wall. She dug her fingers into the bottom line of the inscription, feeling for a catch or trigger.

When her fingers reached the word 'death', nausea hit N'oenar in a crushing wave, and he had to reach out with his free hand and grip the wall to keep from falling. The pull was tremendous; it would take too much time to discover the secret to opening the chamber; the draw would drive him mad long before then. "We have to cut our way through, I can't…."

"Cut it?" Ayliana's fingers fell from the wall and she turned to stare at him. "But-"

Keruck's voice was low, but it carried. "Are you sure, N'oenar?" 

"The opening… it's right behind the engraved stone. I can't…." N'oenar turned to Keruck, holding the torch up, and the glow of the flame framed his vision in oranges and yellows. He could see the Jedi Knight's face, though the rest of him was in shadow as he knelt beside the fallen Master. "Keruck, I _know_ this."

Slowly, Keruck stood, studying N'oenar. Then he turned his attention to the wall as Ayliana moved back.

"You're taller than I am, Keruck. If there's a door, they wouldn't have it cut right through the lettering." Ayliana's shoulders sagged as she glanced at the fallen Master, and then at N'oenar. "And I… well, I don't think I could cut through the Code, either way."

With a sharp nod, Keruck lit his saber. N'oenar let out a long breath as the Knight approached the wall, and then sucked in a new one when he raised his saber. It was strangely appropriate that the Jedi Knight's first thrust above the top line of the Code caused the letters to shift and crumble, the force of his blade breaking the first line apart. Dust fell from the engraving, the words fading… just as in his dream.

_There is no emotion; there is peace._

He put his head against the stone and closed his eyes, willing himself to calmness. It was difficult; he could hear the thick noise from Keruck's saber as the Jedi slowly dragged his blade through the stone, and he could feel the pull, still, though it had lessened the moment Keruck's saber bit into the wall.

Closer… closer….

When he heard Kerenne gasp, he opened his eyes, blinking in the light. Keruck stepped back from the opening, sheathing his saber. "I think I found the catch."

"Or melted it." Zehrid shook his head. "Never realized those things would cut stone before."

"The Force guided your hand," Ayliana whispered, stepping forward. "And look, there, that must be where it's controlled normally." She stepped forward and pressed against a softly glowing section of the stone – a façade, covering the control panel - and immediately the door slid shut. N'oenar stared at the engravings until Ayliana pressed the previously glowing section of stone. The door moved back slightly from the rest of the stone face before sliding into the wall, the engravings disappearing as the entrance grew.

The opening was dark, and Keruck hesitated a moment before taking a step forward. N'oenar pushed himself away from the wall and joined him, holding the torch high as they walked through the entrance into darkness - a darkness that was soon broken. The moment they crossed the threshold, hundreds of torches near the ceiling burst into life. 

"So this part is powered, then!" Zehrid said. 

"They like the ambience, I guess," Kerenne answered, walking up behind them. "And I don't blame them."

Zehrid looked around, seemingly unimpressed, however. "No hidden treasure, then? Pity."

"There is no greater treasure," N'oenar murmured, his eyes hungrily scanning the volumes of texts. Ancient texts, many wrapped in protective clear coating, lined the richly carved bookcases. Some small marble and stone statues were placed between sections of shelving, a sampling from many systems, some incomprehensible and others as lifelike as the people that stood next to him. Most were likely replicas, N'oenar guessed, but it was possible that some were the originals.

He walked slowly around the room, searching the shelves. An old, familiar volume caught his eye and he reached out to pull it from the shelf, the weight a welcome comfort in his hands. No matter how often he was astounded by the storage capabilities of some of the newer crystals – the Roon crystals in particular – he would always treasure the tactile sensuality of holding a text in his hands, turning well-worn pages, breathing in the age and knowing that hundreds, if not thousands, of hands had touched those very pages before him.

A thread of darkness touched him, then, and his eyes were drawn through a large archway to the second chamber. It was smaller, but from what he could see, it was packed with art and statues, with some smaller shelves scattered throughout. The thread came from that room. The forbidden texts. He was certain of it.

"Well, at least there're real chairs!" Zehrid crowed, immediately falling into one with a thump. "Pretty comfortable, too. I knew you Jedi had to have some good chairs somewhere in this place." He leaned back with an exaggerated sigh.

N'oenar smiled at him, shaking his head. 

"More color for you down here, too, Zehrid," Kerenne said. She looked around, pivoting slowly on her heels. "And some decorations, even. Statues and carvings…."

"Yeah. I like this room better than those upstairs. Figures they'd hide the good part behind some huge stone wall." Zehrid frowned. "What I don't understand is why some of them didn't just come and hide down here?"

"A Jedi doesn't hide." Just speaking the words again shook him, and he swallowed hard as he heard Master Lomar's reply once more in his memory: _You're not a Jedi! Remember that, you're not a Jedi_.

"Not when others – fellow Jedi - are in danger," Ayliana said. "Unless they're ordered to do otherwise."

Keruck nodded. "These were all Masters. They would have joined the battle, though it's possible some younger Knights were ordered to escape. We didn't see any ships here, after all."

"True." N'oenar sighed. "And they wouldn't want to chance leading the troopers down here, where the most precious knowledge was preserved. I think the Master we found had waited until they were gone before making her way down the stairs."

"Oh. That makes sense." Zehrid sounded like he was sorry for asking, and he remained silent while they made their way through the first chamber and into the second. N'oenar kept his senses carefully open, and his eyes were immediately drawn to a marble statue of two figures, facing away from one another. It was a beautiful, elegant depiction of the humans.

Ayliana walked to the statue and touched it reverently. "I saw the original on Naboo, when Master Lomar and I were there."

"A moving piece," Sarn said, examining the statue with an expert eye. "Look at how they're standing, not even touching, but you can tell…."

"Tell what?" N'oenar asked, frowning at the statue.

Sarn looked over at him. "You can tell they're in love."

N'oenar blinked, and looked closer at the statue. He felt the urge to study it more closely; the pull came from that direction. But he resisted, with Keruck's sharp eyes on him. He could come back later, when there were fewer people about, to search for the hidden texts that continued to call to him. 

He jumped when Sarn called them over. "Here, over here – look at this! I think it's a door of some sort."

"A door?" Kerenne walked over immediately. "He's right. It's not even hidden." She reached out and pressed beside the rectangular panel as the others approached, and it slid open to reveal a deep black opening.

"What is it?"

"I think it's outside," Sarn said, poking his head out of the door. He fumbled in his pocket for a moment before pulling out a few firerocks. "Handy things, these are."

"Very true." Ayliana smiled at N'oenar before following Sarn through the doorway. "It's… it's a landing pad, isn't it?"

"In a crevice, it looks like. Ingenious!" Sarn's voice was admiring. 

"A hidden landing site to go along with the hidden door and hidden rooms." Zehrid said from the doorway. "Makes sense. Does this mean we won't have to carry all those books so far?"

As they returned to the chamber, Sarn was still shaking his head in admiration. "Brilliant! Even if someone came through with lights, they wouldn't see it, if I guess right." 

"So, what's the plan?" Kerenne asked. "There are a lot of those old texts down here…."

Zehrid looked at the shelves, and the large number of texts filling them. "Our ship's big, but not _that_ big, you know."

N'oenar laughed. "I know." He stared at the shelf in front of him and shook his head. "I'll mark the ones that need to be put to crystal – those Roon crystals on the shelves upstairs might already have some of them saved, actually. There'll be an index at the beginning of each. And there ought to be text transferal units, to copy the texts into the crystals quickly."

"I'm familiar with the way those work," Keruck said. "I can show the others. Perhaps it would be easier to separate our efforts? Some of us can go through what you've already set aside up in the other chambers as 'necessary' and load them to the crystals, if they're not already on them."

"That makes sense."

"But first," Keruck said, "we have another task."

Ayliana nodded. "The honoring."

The ceremony was shorter, of course, but no less solemn or moving. N'oenar knew, without a doubt, that this Master had been one of the wise, one of those entrusted with the knowledge of the forbidden texts. He wondered, as he felt the Force flow through him, if she had once questioned as he did. If she had once feared the very knowledge that she came to protect.

He would never know.

After the honoring, Zehrid insisted that they eat first, and N'oenar didn't protest, though he was anxious to return to the ancient archives. The others headed to the research chambers as Keruck had suggested, while N'oenar headed down the stairs. He had the odd feeling of entering another era as he was enveloped by the flickering light of the torches, and it felt like home.

He didn't dare search for the forbidden texts, not now, with Keruck and Ayliana likely to enter the library at any moment. But he felt the pull even as he sat in front of the first set of shelves and readied his datapad to mark those volumes that needed to be loaded to crystal. Some he would bring physically, but not all of them.

As he worked, piles formed beside him, and he had to shift his position often to find room amongst the towers of texts. There was another pile, smaller, of essential volumes. Saber techniques and construction, philosophical renderings concerning the living Force, the nature of the Jedi. There were few pure histories of star systems or planets in the essential pile; most of those volumes were derivative works, anyway, with the original sources still in the hands of the planetary systems. Others, however….

Sarn laid a hand on his shoulder. "We can't bring it all, N'oenar."

With a sigh, he nodded and flipped through the book in his hands, committing as much as he could to memory before placing it in the "leave" pile.

"I know. But we'll bring what we can."

A few hours later, he was still sitting on the stone floor, scanning volume after volume. This library had been better organized, and he found the categorizing to be a simpler – and quicker – task than the upstairs libraries had been, though there was still much left to be done.

When he felt Ayliana approach, he turned. "They're done upstairs… do you have more lists of things to put to crystal?"

N'oenar nodded and stood, his knees cracking after being in one position for so long. "I've got a few. They're on that table-"

"You could do with a break, actually," Ayliana said, studying him. "Come on. Why don't you take a walk with me. And I wanted to check something out, too."

"Check something out?" N'oenar asked, grabbing the datapads from the table. She didn't answer, just waved him to follow. With a shrug, he fell in behind her, frowning when she paused outside of the library's door.

"I just can't believe that these are blank corridors. It makes no sense," Ayliana said, taking one of the torches from the wall and facing the east corridor. "And something's…" She closed her eyes, and he knew she was searching with the Force. "There _is_ something this way! I can feel it."

N'oenar followed her without argument, though he felt nothing. Her senses had always been acute when it came to things that didn't touch the dark side, and N'oenar was curious as to what she might find.

Suddenly, she stopped. "Look here – there's another engraving."

_A Jedi does no act for personal power or wealth but seeks knowledge and enlightenment._

A true Jedi never acts from hatred, anger, fear or aggression but acts when calm and at peace with the Force.

N'oenar stared at the last line, so intent on the letters that it was a shock when the stone fell back from the wall and slid sideways into it, revealing a stairway lit with glowbulbs. "How did you-"

"I just felt along the side for a false section of stone. Something like the mechanism at the library's door," Ayliana quickly explained. "Come on, let's see where it goes."

The stairway wasn't straight, as the other had been, but winding in a strange set of curves so that N'oenar was unable to tell where it might let out. He found he preferred the rougher, more natural feel to the other stairway, but he didn't mention it to Ayliana. When they reached the top, she pressed the glowing control beside the door and it slid open to reveal the corridor outside of the bedchambers.

"I didn't even notice a panel here on this side," Ayliana said, frowning. "I wonder why everything's so hidden for that archive…"

N'oenar just shook his head, though he knew the answer. The dark texts. Only the highest of masters could be allowed near them, only the purest of mind and wisest of Jedi. But he said none of those things.

---

That night, N'oenar lay for a long time in the darkness, trying to ignore the pull from the library below. It wasn't a simple task – the knowledge whispered to him, and even without the draw of the dark it would be difficult to resist the forbidden texts, now all at his disposal. Finally, he realized it was useless to try to sleep until his curiosity had been appeased; he had to read, to at least see what else was there. Throwing off the bedcovers, he walked through the dim corridors to the kitchen, and the hidden stairs.

He ignored the art and paintings that would be overbright in the harsh illumination of glowbulbs, but that were beautiful and deep in the subtle flicker of torchlight. When he reached the marble statue that Ayliana had recognized from Naboo – a replica – he sank to his knees behind it. The pull came from here. Reaching out, he touched the richly carved wood panel that appeared to be simple decoration, letting the Force flow through him, to the panel, the stone, the floor… and felt it. A small control, artfully rendered as part of the decorative carving. He pressed it and the panel sank down into the floor, revealing an alcove that held a number of texts.

Dark texts. 

With a shaky breath, he let his fingers trail along the bound texts, feeling the clear coating on many of them, and the unsettling leathery feel of others. Closing his eyes, he pulled one randomly from the shelf, then carried it to one of the heavy stone tables and sat. He stared at it a moment before opening it – it was untitled, bound in an aged leathery substance.

Did he want to do this? Then again, knowledge of a thing didn't mean he would use it. And, as Master Dannew had said, a true philosopher would learn of both sides. With a sudden determination, he flipped through it, blanching at some of the descriptions of how a dark user could wield the Force. He could never fall that far….

_Luminous beings, are we. The shroud is a useful thing. Bane hid from his own people for long until he grew in power, until he was strong enough to defeat any who would try to oppose._

These Jedi - they speak of the natural Force, the Living Force, and yet they deny its will. They grab it and bend it, breaking its natural ebb and flow, ignoring the waves that crash against them with the tide of the dark side. Unnatural… they are unnatural. To ignore the half of man that speaks to the dark side, to ignore the half of man that makes him what he is - his emotions, his feelings, his love - **that** is the true unnaturalness.

He took a deep breath and nodded to himself. It made sense, in a twisted sort of way. Scanning the rest of the pages, he committed it to memory, while certain phrases and lines popped out and lived in his conscious mind for a time.

_A threat is only as powerful as the fear of the threatened, and the threat of loss is more powerful than loss itself._

Swallowing, he placed the text aside and stared at it. Truths and half-truths. Feeling the need to cleanse his palate, he opened his pack and took out the thin volume he'd found in the upstairs research chamber - the one that bore Master Windu's writing. Opening it, he studied the first page, which bore a precise drawing of the symbol of the Jedi Order. His hand shaking, he traced it with his finger, not quite touching the page.

_What you hold inside you, we cannot afford to lose. You own the survival of the Jedi Order_.

But what was he to do? He stared at the symbol a little longer, then shook his head and turned the page, and read. Apparently, this had been a partial source for the volume on lightsaber defense that he had read that first night. He recognized many of the same words and sentences, though at times they seemed to have a slightly different tone, and in his mind he could hear Master Windu's voice speaking the words aloud.

_It is simple to put a definition to Shii-Cho, or Makashi, or even Djem So. But what is Vaapad? The philosophers argue it, but I can tell this: it is at once a lightsaber combat, a state of mind, and an actual power. How one uses that power is the question, and philosophers should put their minds to solving that answer rather than to deciphering the nature of the beast itself._

N'oenar left the library, more confused than he had been when he first made his way down the dark stairs. He, himself, had chosen to focus on the Makashi form of lightsaber dueling during his training. But in practice, he wondered if he had shifted to the more power-oriented Djem So, and what that shift might mean. Anakin Skywalker had been a master of Djem So. Peace through superior strength, his saber master had described it as. A simple definition. Too simple, perhaps.

After the stone door slid shut behind him, he turned and stared at it, his eyes tracing the Jedi Code - or what remained of it. When he heard footsteps behind him he turned, half-expecting to see Master Dannew standing there patiently, waiting to give him further cryptic messages. But there was only Keruck.

"You're up late," the Jedi Knight said. It was a statement, not a question, yet N'oenar felt compelled to explain.

"I couldn't sleep."

"This place… you recognize it, don't you?" Keruck walked up to him slowly, surveying the damaged piece of wall.

N'oenar nodded, a jerky movement. "I… I've seen it in dreams." _Many dreams_.

"I tried to avoid cutting into the Code itself, but I judged incorrectly. My blade came too close to the letters." Reaching out, he touched the crumbled engraving, then ran his hand along the invisible seam that formed the doorway.

"It matches my dream, this way."

"I see." Keruck's hand stilled. "The wall is damaged, in your dreams?"

He had said too much; it wasn't something he could tell Keruck. Just the thought of describing his dreams, along with Master Dannew's orders concerning the dark side, to the honorable Jedi Knight made him want to laugh. Hopefully, Keruck would understand his reticence. "It is. Sometimes."

Keruck nodded and studied N'oenar, his expression disconcertingly like Master Dannew's - a calmness that only a true Jedi could achieve. "I was in the kitchen when I heard the door close. Would you like to join me? I made more tea than I can drink myself."

N'oenar let out a breath and nodded, following the Knight up the stairs. He blinked in the bright light of the glowbulbs, the glare harsh after the softer light from the torches in the library.

"I begin to appreciate some of the older Master's insistence on natural light," Keruck commented as they entered. N'oenar smiled, relaxing somewhat.

"I was just thinking the same thing."

"Have a seat. I'll bring it over," Keruck said, gathering some cups and pouring the tea quickly.

The door slid open and N'oenar turned to see Sarn enter the kitchen. "A party, and no one even invited me. Tragic, indeed."

"Just some tea," Keruck said, smiling mildly. "There's enough for a third cup, if you'd like."

"Please do, please do." Sarn sat next to N'oenar. "Looks like everyone had some problems sleeping tonight."

"I had to look at some of the texts." N'oenar shrugged. "Couldn't help myself."

"A true historian," Sarn said with a smile, accepting a cup from Keruck before the Jedi Knight sat. "Thank you, Keruck. For myself, I find that I don't sleep as well away from home. Too used to hearing my wife snoring beside me, though she'd never admit she does such a rude thing, of course."

N'oenar smiled. "Can't be worse than Rohnid." Keruck grinned as he took a sip from his cup, and N'oenar remembered that he and Rohnid had been close friends.

"No, indeed!" Sarn chuckled. "I'm used to being up early, though. When my wife's family is out of town, I check up on their pets. I like getting there in the morning instead of after we close shop- easier that way."

"Do they go out of town a lot?"

"Often enough. They live in the Hroten province, have two young ones. Well, maybe not so young anymore, but younger than me." Sarn winked. "They do a fair bit of traveling, especially since my niece has been more involved in things with her classes. Brienna's a few years younger than you are, but old for her age. Always has been."

"It's very kind of you to do that." Keruck smiled, looking at Sarn. "I didn't make my way to the Hroten province, but I hear it's beautiful."

"I'm not surprised that you didn't make it out there. They're not overly fond of Jedi, there. Even before… this mess."

N'oenar frowned. "Why not?"

"It's a small province, made mostly of farmers." Keruck gave a small smile.

"Very tight-knit. Family's important to them," Sarn added. "So, of course, they weren't much on the screening of young people for the Jedi Temple."

"They didn't want the children leaving?"

"That, but more than that, too. Young ones come and go, going on about their lives, even without the Jedi involved. But that no attachment policy sort of guarantees no grandchildren." Sarn winked, then. "No _legitimate_ grandchildren, I should say."

"Ah." 

"But anyway, I really don't mind going there. It's not a long trip, and I enjoy it. Peaceful." Sarn poured himself another cup and, with a look of great satisfaction, took a long sip. "The crystals in the morning sun… just indescribable."

"That they are," Keruck agreed quietly. "It was one of my favorite things about Gabris Prime."

N'oenar nodded, looking at Keruck in a new light. He knew what it felt like, to be forced from your home.

---

The next day was spent checking the crystals and adding those volumes that N'oenar marked as essential. Luckily, the troopers hadn't destroyed the devices that transferred the physical volumes to storage crystals – N'oenar had always been impressed by the technology, which used carefully shot jets of air to flip the pages and capture the information contained within.

They also loaded the ships with many of the ancient texts that N'oenar couldn't bear to leave behind – the very feel of the pages was an experience and knowledge in itself. By the time they sat down to eat a late dinner, there were only a few piles left to go through, which relieved N'oenar. As they'd worked that day, a growing sense of foreboding had tickled the edges of his awareness, urging him on. They needed to leave as soon as possible.

Keruck nodded when N'oenar mentioned leaving the next morning. "We can, if we work longer tonight."

Zehrid sat back with an exaggerated groan. "Tonight? I was hoping we could just… rest."

"Well, we do have time-"

"No, we don't." N'oenar frowned, wondering at his own outburst. He shook his head. "I feel a sort of urgency… I can't explain it, Keruck. But I don't think we want to linger here too long." As much as it might tear at him to leave so many of the volumes behind, he knew it for truth. "Tonight and tomorrow ought to give us enough time to finish loading what we can. A good amount of what's upstairs is redundant, easily found in non-Jedi libraries."

"I feel something, too," Ayliana said in a low voice. "But it's not steady."

"Very well." Keruck glanced at Zehrid, who looked mutinous. "There's actually not too much left to do, Zehrid. And I admit, I've felt something in the Force, also. Nothing concrete, but… I think you're right."

With a grin, Sarn slapped Zehrid on the arm. "Come on, now. You're a young man, strong and tall and all that other stuff. You can't let an old man like me beat you out, can you?"

"Well, when you put it like that…." Zehrid tossed his napkin to the table. "Let's get it done. Then we can sleep."

Late that night, Kerenne took a break in the downstairs archive while N'oenar finished the last two piles of books, setting aside the final volumes to be loaded. When Keruck walked into the room, he looked up, smiling when he caught sight of Kerenne frowning at a volume of piloting techniques. Apparently, she didn't agree with whatever the author had written.

Keruck set a crystal on the counter. "That's the next-to-last pile, I believe."

"Thanks, Keruck. You've done a lot today."

"We all have."

Kerenne looked up from her book. "Have the others already hit their beds?"

Keruck nodded. "I think we should all get some sleep. We can finish the rest in the morning before we leave."

"You go on ahead, I just want to finish checking over these last few piles. It won't take me long." N'oenar ran a hand through his hair, mildly surprised by the length. It had always grown fast, and the traditionally short Padawan style had required continuous trimming… which he hadn't done since leaving the temple. It was too distinctive.

"We don't have room-"

"I know. I can always transcribe them later from memory." Some texts, however, he had no desire to transcribe from memory. But he couldn't bring himself to leave them behind… just as he couldn't bring himself to load them to the ship in Keruck's presence. It was unlikely Keruck would protest; all knowledge should be preserved, as the Code dictated, but he knew the Jedi Knight felt that some knowledge might be best left forgotten. N'oenar didn't agree.

Not entirely.

"Do you need company?" Keruck asked, rubbing his hands on his tunic. 

Kerenne set the book aside, the author's irritating commentary apparently forgotten for the moment. "I'll stay with him for a while. You go on to bed; you've done most of the heavy lifting."

Keruck looked at N'oenar, and there was a palpable sense of warning in the Knight's expression. _There are many cliffs._ N'oenar forced a smile. "She's right. You did do most of the heavy lifting today." After a moment, Keruck nodded and, with a final glance back at the two, left the library. 

As soon as he disappeared through the door, Kerenne closed her book and set it aside. "And there'll be more lifting in the morning, if I'm guessing right. No matter how much you assure us that we're done with that part of it."

N'oenar chuckled. "Probably. But I'll try to get most of them loaded tonight."

"Don't kill yourself."

"Myself?" N'oenar smirked. "Not to worry - I've got an extra set of muscles sitting in that chair. You _did_ volunteer-"

"Don't even think about it," Kerenne said, laughing. "Your extra set of muscles has done enough today. They need sleep before they do anything else. And we _do_ have the morning, you know." She stood and walked over to him. "You Jedi are always either overly calm or overly hurried."

"Oh?" N'oenar smiled faintly as he flipped through another book. It was a short volume, and he was done quickly.

"I've known a few, in my day." 

"Funny, so have I." His smile grew until he felt the light blow on his arm. "Ouch!"

"Smart mouth. Come on, which of these books do you want to get loaded? I'd rather get that part done first so I can sit and really relax." 

He hesitated only a moment, then nodded and gestured her to follow. She was silent as they walked through to the rear of the library, and had no reaction when he edged behind the marble statue and pressed the panel to reveal the hidden storage that held the dark texts. The forbidden texts. "These. I need to get them into the ship. Hidden, if possible."

Kerenne took one from the shelf and looked at the leathery binding, lifting an eyebrow as she read the title. "_The Force's Other Side: Volume VI – The Nature of Pain_? Some light reading there, huh?"

N'oenar shrugged as he bent down to pull more of the books from the lower shelf. "It ought to be preserved. It's certainly not common knowledge." When he felt her eyes on him, he looked up. "And someone told me once that anything is a weapon in the right hands." 

"Sounds like a pretty smart person."

"She is."

That crooked smile returned to her face. "And, no doubt, she's also fabulously charming and amazingly attractive." 

To his surprise, he didn't blush. "Right again."

"I like her already." Kerenne winked at him and grabbed more of the volumes from the shelf, scanning the titles with a grimace. "So, where do these go? I'm guessing not in the normal cargo area. How about under the floorpanels in the forward cabin?"

"That's what I was thinking."

They worked in silence, using the firerocks to illuminate their path as they made their way to the ship. It was powered down, as Sarn had recommended, and the firerocks proved helpful inside as well. It only took three trips to bring all the books into the ship, and safely hidden underneath the floorpanels in the forward cabin.

After N'oenar deposited the final book under the panel and replaced the flooring, he straightened and smiled at her. "I think that's all of those. Thanks, Kerenne."

"Any time." She leaned against the wall, the firerocks that she held casting a strange, fleeting glow over her features as she tossed them in the air. "They weren't nearly as heavy as those other things you had us move today. I bet Keruck would be jealous if he knew what you had me moving, compared to those huge history tomes he had to tote around all day. 'Course, he has the Force to help out."

N'oenar's smile faded. "It wasn't something I could ask him to help with."

"If you just explained-"

"That's the problem; there is no explanation. Nothing reasonable, at least. I just have this feeling…."

She nodded, her expression unreadable. "There's something else I told you that night, by the lake, when we talked about weapons." He tilted his head. "That sometimes emotion is more important than your clear judgment." 

N'oenar froze, barely breathing, as they stared at each other, and he could sense the dual meaning of her words. She was teasing, of course, but he wished he could keep himself from imagining more. Keruck's warning clear in his head, he looked away, his stomach in knots. _It would take very little to send you plummeting over that edge._ "I've… we ought to go ahead and get some sleep."

She sighed, then nodded. Without another word, she led the way from the ship and back through the hidden entrance. As he walked behind, he watched her in the light of the firerocks, and the knots tightened.

_There are many cliffs._

---

_N'oenar walked beside his Master in the strange grey landscape that was dream. "Should it all be preserved?" _

"There is no ignorance; there is knowledge."

"That's not an answer. I mean, really… should it be saved? Should it be passed on? I won't use it; I can't."

"You must." He opened his mouth to protest, but Master Dannew continued, "And the unknown enemy is the most dangerous. There will ever be those that use the dark side, not to smolder, but to blaze. From those, the only protection is knowledge of what you face."

"That makes sense."

"It does."

He walked beside Master Dannew in silence for a time, then took a deep breath. "Master, what are the birds? Will you tell me?"

"They shall be some of the building blocks that recreate the Order." Master Dannew smiled, an almost wistful expression. "The Order rebuilt, the Chosen One's blood proven; it will happen, in time."

"And we are to free them?"

"Yes. The silver cage closes on them as they sing in the blue tree. It is your task, to free the birds. You own the key."

The key. He had an uncomfortable feeling that he knew what the key was. And it was something he'd vowed himself to never use again.

A beauty and power so sharp it was almost painful…__

"The dark side."

"Both sides of the Force. That is the key."

"When we came here, I… I felt the pull from the books. The dark texts. But I didn't know what it was, I didn't realize..." N'oenar shook his head.

"You can see it better, more clearly. But not perfectly. Not yet."

"I don't understand."

Dannew looked at him. "It is like the writings of an unknown species. When you do not know the words, the way of their script, it seems but a cloud, confusing and incomprehensible. But then you begin to learn, and clarity comes."

"I don't know if I want it any clearer." N'oenar thought about the texts he had read, the descriptions of using the Force to kill, to maim, to confuse… and to hide. But the shroud was meant to conceal a veiled attack; safety was not its goal, even if it was a welcome side effect. "And, if that's the case…"

"Yes?"

"Master Windu… you said he used both. So why didn't he see the dark that the Chancellor…"

Master Dannew was nodding before he finished speaking, and once N'oenar's voice trailed off he said, "He knew where the dark side congregated, but didn't see it clearly enough to realize it was the Chancellor himself, and not simply something surrounding him."

The answer slid into place. "The Chancellor used the shroud?"

Master Dannew stopped and turned to him, and N'oenar realized that they were now in that familiar corridor. The torchlight flickered, but didn't illuminate the passage the way it did in reality – all the light centered on Master Dannew's face. "He maintained it most of the time, but he became careless, near the end. Unfortunate that we did not see the truth before it was too late."

"Unfortunate." N'oenar almost choked on the word. "Yes. Unfortunate."

Master Dannew reached out to touch N'oenar's shoulder. "There are others that walk both sides, my Padawan. One of these is a great threat to you."

"Vader." N'oenar closed his eyes. "Does he even walk both sides any longer? I'd say Skywalker's made his final choice, now."

"The light remains." Master Dannew's face was calm when N'oenar looked at him. "Memory lies within, buried deep, and it is the base of his light. He cannot bear to snuff it out completely, nor can he bear to face it. Until he has the courage to claim his memory once more, darkness will reign."

"Then it will reign forever."

"Keep faith. The Chosen One's blood will run true, in time."

Master Dannew disappeared, and as he faded the light in the corridor – source unseen – shifted to focus on the wall, on the Jedi Code… or what remained of it. The first line - that had faded in his dreams weeks ago. The third had begun to crumble days ago, and was rapidly disintegrating. Swallowing hard, N'oenar reached out a trembling hand and touched the line, brushing aside some of the dust. There is no passion; there is serenity.__

As the gritty motes drifted to the ground, the corridor faded around him, and he was running, running through nothing, with Kerenne at his side. The strange grayness of the landscape made him slow but she pulled him along, not allowing him pause, not allowing him time to think. Not allowing him time to prepare before they both plummeted over the edge of the cliff. 

He woke with a start, his throat raw, and he knew he'd been shouting in his sleep. The image of the crumbling line was fresh in his mind as he blinked, and he was unsurprised to see Kerenne standing beside his bed, and just as unsurprised to feel her hand on his cheek. Passion… serenity… he closed his eyes again and let out a sigh. He knew, all too well, what the third crumbling line represented.

Even with that knowledge, he leaned into her touch.

"Kerenne, I…." He didn't know what else to say. He knew his duty, he knew his oaths, and he knew that he didn't want her to leave. Or to stay.

To his surprise, she slid onto the bed next to him, smirking when his eyes widened in shock. "Some company might help you get some rest. Now, sleep, N'oenar." 

Unable to think of a protest, he obediently closed his eyes, though he was certain he'd never sleep with her so close. But he was proven wrong. After some time, her weight shifted and her breathing grew steady and, lulled by the even sound, he followed her into sleep.

She was gone before he woke the next morning and he lay for many minutes, staring at the pillow beside him. Duty was clear – but what was his duty, now? What were his oaths for, now? The Jedi Order was gone, his own Master counseled him to use the dark side of the Force, and to say his faith hung by a thread would be giving the thin filament too much credit.

He took a few minutes to pack his things after he visited the refresher. It was later than he'd intended to sleep, and he wondered why no one had woken him. With a shrug, he headed down the second stairway to make sure he hadn't forgotten any of the more urgently needed texts.

When he entered the large archive chamber, he saw Kerenne sitting alone at one of the large tables, frowning at a logic puzzle that Sarn had given her.

"Morning." He shifted awkwardly. "Where is everyone?"

She looked up at the sound of his voice and smiled. "They're all upstairs. Keruck told us to let you sleep as long as you needed. Once they're done loading the last of those crystals up there, they're supposed to bring some food down." 

"Good. I hope they don't leave it up to Zehrid-"

"Keruck won't." Kerenne smirked. "He says he doesn't trust Zehrid to cook, not after that last concoction he came up with."

"Can't blame him."

She seemed to be avoiding his gaze, and he didn't quite know how to react. Was it something to be mentioned, or not? He could still smell her hair, feel her arms around him… and he cursed himself, suddenly. A normal person would have _done_ something.

"And I'm sitting here, waiting for you to appear, of course," she said, that crooked smile forming on her face as she finally looked at him.

He chuckled and sat next to her, studying the logic puzzle as he dropped his pack to the floor behind him. He could see the solution immediately, but he wisely held his tongue on that. "You can't fool me. You're just here to fight with this puzzle Sarn gave you."

"He's an evil, evil man." Kerenne tossed the puzzle to the heavy stone table with a grimace. "So. Did you sleep well?"

"I did. After… after you came…." He faltered, unsure where his words were taking him.

"That's good to hear."

"I… thank you."

She stared at him a few moments, then looked down, and he knew, then, what she was hiding. It should have been clear before now, but the distraction of everything else going on, his inexperience with normal human interactions…. He'd thought she was teasing him, playing at flirting to see him blush. Ayliana had known, he realized, had known since they were on the ship. Since he'd talked to her about what he'd sensed from Kerenne. _I sense it, N'oenar. Don't worry. It's…. Just don't worry about it. Trust me._

Then Keruck's voice. _Take care, young one._

The words came out before he could stop them. He wasn't certain if he wanted to stop them. "A Jedi doesn't form attachments."

"That's what Toryndo said," Kerenne murmured, a sad smile crossing her face. "But I told him I wasn't looking for an attachment."

"Oh." N'oenar swallowed, remembering her reaction to Toryndo's death. That was the reason, then... it unsettled him more than it should. "You and Toryndo... were close, then?"

"Yeah. I mean, not an _attachment_, we were just friends that also... well. You get the picture. But it's different, now. With you." Kerenne opened her mouth to speak again, then paused. He waited, acutely aware of his every movement – each breath that entered and left his lungs, each blink, each nervous tap of his fingers on the stone table.

When it seemed she would never continue, he took a breath and asked in a hoarse whisper, "What do you mean?"

She hesitated a moment more, then shrugged, looking away. "With you, it's different, because I'm... I guess I do want attachment." 

His lungs stopped their movement. Stunned, he stared down at her. The torchlight brought out bronze and copper tones in her wildly curling hair, cast orange and red shadows across her face. She was so close, so... But it was forbidden, wasn't it? A sense of _something_ coming near flooded him, and his stomach knotted. Forbidden. Then the memory of Master Lomar's words during the Temple attack threaded into his mind. _You're not a Jedi._

Not a Jedi.

Not anymore.

He began to breathe again, uneven and almost ragged, and she looked at him, perhaps sensing the path of his thoughts. Without plot or plan, he leaned over, then hesitated a moment. Just a moment. Swallowing, he closed the distance between them, hoping that the Force would guide him.

Her lips were warm and soft, and the hand that she slid around his neck was even warmer. He hoped that he was doing it right, but as she took control of the kiss and pressed against him, he forgot everything but the woman whose breath was blowing hot against his cheek. Beautiful… it was beautiful, it was….

"Touching."

At the sound of the voice, they both jerked back. It sounded like Keruck. The voice was the same timbre and quality, but the tone was nothing like the calm Jedi Knight. N'oenar reached for his saber, realizing with a jolt that it was no longer in his possession. He cursed silently as he turned to face the intruder.

"Jerner."

The source of that strange sense of _something_ approaching was now clear – he'd misinterpreted it, with Kerenne so close… his senses had been clouded by emotion. He saw, now, that deep pit the Jedi Order warned against was real – there was reason behind the Code, reason behind the teachings.

The man raised his hand – his one remaining hand – and made a show of inspecting N'oenar's saber hilt

"Very nice. Not so nice as mine was, of course, but quite similar. Ironic, really." Jerner shrugged. "Or is it coincidental? I can never remember when to use which word-"

"How did you find us?"

"You shine so bright, you don't even realize… " He stepped towards N'oenar. "I can see you, _feel_ you so clearly in the Force. In the _dark_ of the Force."

_One who exists in the light alone will only see light. One who exists in the darkness alone will only see dark. But one who exists in both will see all._ N'oenar swallowed. Jerner hadn't sensed Keruck – he was certain of that.

Kerenne's hand was at the side of her leg, and their eyes met for a split second before N'oenar tore his gaze away. He had seen the throwing knife in her grip, but he didn't think Jerner had – the man's attention was completely on N'oenar. He waited, tense, for her hand to whip out… but then she bit her lip and squeezed her eyes shut, shaking her head. N'oenar watched from the corner of his vision as her hand loosened on the knife.

_No, Kerenne, don't drop it, don't-_ he thought, then recognition dawned. In horror, he realized that they were the words from his dreams of the cliff – his own words, in his own voice, in his own mind. She couldn't sense the danger as he could; she wouldn't kill her own brother, when he hadn't threatened them directly. And N'oenar had no blade, saber, no way to attack….

_Anything is a weapon._.

Echoes from the Force, echoes from memory. He did have a way to attack, but he couldn't. He couldn't – not the dark side, not when there was another option. Ayliana had to come, or Keruck, they would sense-

A new voice joined Jerner's, one that N'oenar recognized all too well. Yaril. "He does shine bright," the Utapaun said, gliding into the room, his long blue fingers trailing across the statue guarding the entranceway. Beside him, Kerenne shifted – she had no compunction against striking Yaril. N'oenar held his breath as her hand snapped up, the knife glinting coldly in the firelight; but just as quickly, Yaril raised one finger and she fell to her knees, clutching her throat, the knife falling to the stone floor with a clatter. The man's thin lips spread open to reveal curved teeth – a smile, or a snarl.

The choking sound from Kerenne was all that was needed; without thought to the consequences, without care for philosophical arguments about light versus dark, N'oenar whipped his arm out, centering his anger and fear the way he had read, directing it with his _need_. One sharp needlepoint crack to the skull, and Yaril staggered forward, releasing Kerenne.

Breathing heavily, he watched as Kerenne massaged her throat, and as Yaril regained his footing. He prepared another strike when the Utapaun focused on Kerenne again, but it wasn't needed.

"Leave her," Jerner commanded, and N'oenar frowned when Yaril immediately nodded. He had thought Yaril was the stronger of the two, the leader, but it seemed he had mistaken the hierarchy. Or the roles had switched, somehow, since he'd faced Jerner on Gabris Prime. 

Jerner handed N'oenar's saber to Yaril and then casually strolled around the room before stopping in front of N'oenar. He lifted his right arm, holding up the stump where his hand had once been, then nodded. "You deny it, and yet you will use the dark side when you must… or when you wish it. Good. Very good. I told you he could be trained, Yaril. He's a natural." Jerner smiled. "He'll learn from me."

"I won't."

"And you once again deny our gift?" With a growl, Jerner threw his arm out and N'oenar felt himself lifted. This time, he let himself fall, waiting until the last moment to use the Force – the light side of the Force – to slow his descent. Still, the air was shoved from his lungs when he struck the stone floor, and he struggled for breath as Jerner approached. With his face twisted into a fury, N'oenar vaguely thought that the man looked nothing like Keruck, after all.

"You should have joined us."

N'oenar stared up at Jerner. If he had only sensed Jerner coming, if he had only recognized what it was that he was sensing…. Just then, another feel of _something_ approaching tickled his senses. A thick darkness coiled in the Force, an essence of deepest black, and it was coming near. He closed his eyes, concentrating on the presence in the Force, and when he saw the slightest glimmer of light in the very center, he recognized it for what it was. _Memory lies within, buried deep, but it is the base of his light. He cannot bear to snuff it out completely, nor can he bear to face it._

"Vader."

Jerner smiled, his eyes half-closed in something close to rapture. "You feel him, don't you? So much power, it's unthinkable. Like a God. Like a God… and you are my offering."

From the corner of his eye, he could see Kerenne sliding towards him… no, not towards him. Towards her fallen knife. It was her favorite throwing knife, the most evenly weighted. The most accurate.

"The betrayal just never ends with you, does it, dear sister?" Jerner lifted his hand, and Kerenne's knife flew to him. Casually, he handed it to Yaril. "I'll just pretend you were planning on killing Yaril with that, and not your older brother."

"You'd be wrong."

"Breaking the bond of family." Jerner sneered. "And so _my_ oath is no longer binding. You do make some things easier, Kerenne."

N'oenar felt a surge of dark warning from the Force a split second before Jerner's hand raised. The heavy stone table lifted, the logic puzzle sliding from its surface and falling to the floor as it moved through the air to hover over Kerenne, who seemed to be pinned to the floor by some dark power. Once the table was in place, Jerner and Yaril left the room in a flurry of robes, and the table began to fall….

_Size doesn't matter to the Force… size is just a construct of the mind…_ He repeated the litany from his training over and over again as he strained to hold the table above her with the Force. Concentrating, gathering his will, he guided the table away from them, letting it fall as soon as it cleared their legs. Smashing to the floor with an impossibly loud crash, it cracked in half. N'oenar stared at it for a moment, breathing hard.

"Are you all right?" 

N'oenar shook his head and struggled to his feet, lurching after Jerner and Yaril. The two men had already cleared the corridor and were on the stairs by the time he and Kerenne made it to the doorway. He paused when Kerenne gripped his arm, drawing his attention to the right, where he could see Ayliana running towards them, her saber out and ready, with Sarn close behind.

"N'oenar! Was that-"

N'oenar waved her to silence, nodding to the stairs. Jerner stood halfway up, ducking his head to look down at them, Yaril beside him. A finger of fear slid down N'oenar's spine, and he took a step back. "And both our little Padawans are together, finally."

"Took her long enough," Yaril said.

Jerner nodded, then motioned to Yaril with his remaining hand, and the Utapaun pulled out N'oenar's saber. "Take this, N'oenar. He'll have some sport with you when he arrives - he likes to practice. Give him our regards, will you?"

With a disdainful look, Yaril tossed N'oenar's saber down to him, and it landed with a clatter on the stone floor. N'oenar reached out his hand, pulling with the Force, and it flew to his hand… just as Jerner closed his eyes and raised his hand. A torrent of power was unleashed, a whip-like crack of air guided by the Force that shattered the ceiling above the stairs.

N'oenar flung himself back, pulling Kerenne with him. Dust filled the corridor for a few moments before the efficient air system cleared it out. As soon as he finished coughing, Sarn croaked out, "That was Jerner! What-"

"They destroyed the stairway," Ayliana said. "They think we're trapped."

Sarn shook his head. "Must not have known about the other stairs - or the rear entrance. But why bother-"

"He's coming." N'oenar's voice was just a gasp, but Sarn's head shot around as if he'd shouted.

"Who?"

"Vader," Kerenne whispered. "We need to leave."

Ayliana's eyes widened and she stared at N'oenar. He nodded slowly. "Vader."

The smattering of dark hair around Sarn's ears seemed to bristle. "When?"

"Now. Soon. I don't know." N'oenar knew he was bordering on incoherent, and he concentrated on forming his next words. "They tracked us, and told Vader where we were." _You are my offering._

"No doubt they bargained their way out of trouble with him by turning over your location."

"How did they find us here?" Kerenne asked.

"Jerner could sense-" N'oenar stopped. _Me. Because I touched the dark side… and now he's almost fallen fully to the other side, it's all he can clearly see._ The words were not ones that he could say, however. With a swallow, he continued, "He could sense us."

"That Force light thing? Right." Sarn frowned. "Then Vader can, too."

"Yeah."

Kerenne's face twisted, lips barely moving when she breathed, "I should have just thrown the knife."

N'oenar squeezed her hand. "Even he can't follow two ships at once. And once we hit light speed, we can-"

Just then, a sense of danger hit N'oenar. Ayliana also snapped her head up, stepping back just as the ceiling above them began to crack into huge pieces. N'oenar shoved Kerenne out of the way and leapt backwards towards Ayliana, reaching out with the Force to slow the fall of the rock. As he fell to the stone floor, he saw Sarn yank Kerenne back just before a large slab crashed to the floor, and then the dust rose too thick to see anything.

With a gasp, N'oenar released his hold on the Force, and felt it flow through him naturally once more. Ayliana was beside him, and it was then that he realized he was on the ground, his foot caught under some of the rocks near the edge of the pile. Grimacing, he pulled it clear.

"I guess they did know about the other stairs. It looks like the whole corridor's blocked, now," Ayliana croaked out, coughing. N'oenar looked up, glad of the quick air filtration, and saw that she was right. There was only a small gap near the top of the pile. "N'oenar, are you all right?"

"Fine, I'm-" He stopped and lurched to his feet, wincing as he put his weight on the injured ankle. Ignoring the pain, he leaped forward, scrabbling up a few rocks to peek through a small gap.

"Are you-" He swallowed as he saw Sarn help Kerenne to her feet. They were all right - dusty, but all right.

"We're both fine." Kerenne walked up to the stone gap, staring at the pile of stone on her side. In frustration, she pounded her hand against the stone and N'oenar reached through the gap to stop her, gripping her hand tightly. "How are we going to move these rocks?" 

He opened his senses and let the Force flood through him. The tiny grains of stone dust that covered Kerenne's hand felt like large boulders, each individual mote a separate and unique entity in the Force. _Size matters not, distance matters not._ He could feel Kerenne's presence in the Force - not shining brightly like an unveiled Force user's would - but there, a part of the living Force, her essence as easy to pick out for him as choosing the red crystal in a field of blue. In the center of the Force, calmness found him, and he took a slow breath, rubbing his thumb across her knuckles. "I don't think we are."

Sarn's voice echoed strangely through the dusty corridor. "We can't move them; there's no time."

"He's right - we've got to go," Ayliana said from behind him.

"You two will have to take Zehrid's ship. We'll take mine. Come on, Kerenne." Sarn's voice was pleading. "We'll meet them at the sally point, like we talked about before. Just leaving a bit more rushed than we planned."

Kerenne squeezed his hand tightly, and N'oenar closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against the stones. Vader was coming… they had to go… but he didn't want to leave her. What if- A terrible fear seeped into him, and then a dreadful anger.

"I'll take care of her, N'oenar. But you two have to go - _now_!." 

A hand touched his back. Ayliana. "The stones might shift again - you don't want your arm caught there. And… I can feel it. It's coming. _He's_ coming."

A dreadful anger… an anger not his own. It was an echo in the Force, an echo that gathered strength with each passing heartbeat. Even Ayliana could feel it. N'oenar lifted his head and nodded.

"Can't have that arm crushed." Kerenne loosened her hold on his hand, but didn't release it completely. "See you on Jabiim." Hot breath touched his palm and he could feel her lips press against it for a moment before her hand slipped from his, and she was gone. He held onto the Force, held her essence close, and let Ayliana pull him back from the stone pile.

They clambered over the fallen rocks into the library's main room and he paused just long enough to grab his pack and sling it on his shoulder before continuing. She grabbed his hand again, urging him along every time he hesitated. Fear and worry and Ayliana's hand pulling on his were all a sickening reminder of their flight through the undercity, the night after the Temple attack. He put the thought from his mind just as it formed – it wouldn't do to compare the two, not now. Just as they reached the last of the shelves before the hidden doorway, a book caught his eye. It was small, and dark, and the title seemed to pop out from the other texts surrounding it.

_From the Safety of the Shroud_. 

He stopped in his tracks.

"Come on!" Ayliana tugged on his arm, but he stretched, reaching out to pluck the book off the shelf, then he ran with her to the darkness outside, and Zehrid's ship, and their fate.

As they took their seats in the bridge and powered up the ship, he maintained his link to the Force, keeping his senses open, feeling the essences of his friends. Of Kerenne. The book he shoved into a storage compartment under the control panel.

"We need to head the opposite direction from the line of demarcation," Ayliana murmured. The reason remained unspoken: Vader would approach from that direction, they both were certain of that. The presence grew ever nearer, and as they piloted the ship carefully out of the crevice, he concentrated on his link to his friends, not letting go their essences in the Force. When the thread seemed to grow thin he called on both sides of the Force to aid him, letting his fear take hold and fuel the dark. They had to get out, they had to….

Suddenly he swayed, lifting a hand to his head.

"N'oenar, what is it?" Ayliana's voice strained for that Jedi calm, but he could sense the undercurrent of fear from her - a pale echo of his own.

"It's… it's Keruck, I think. He's-" N'oenar couldn't continue. _Gone. He's gone_. He pulled more on the Force, letting his hands slip from the controls as he wrapped his entire awareness around the essences of his friends.

"No," Ayliana said, lowering her head. She let out a great sigh, a shaky sigh. N'oenar leaned over to place his hand on her shoulder, and at that moment, he felt something else slip away in the Force.

_Kerenne._

Horror filled him, a blade of pain and despair and grief piercing his chest. Sliding from his chair, he vaguely heard Ayliana shout his name before everything went blank.


	20. Chapter 19

Note: Thanks to Buttercup for her wonderful beta services! And many thanks to everyone that reviewed.

_**Severing the Past**_

**WendyNat**

Chapter Nineteen  
--------------------  
"They couldn't have followed us. I took us around the dark side of the planet, away from where they'd be coming from," Ayliana murmured as she turned away from the rear viewscreen. "Are you sure you're all right?" She'd told him, when he woke, that he had narrowly missed hitting his head on the edge of the control panel when he blacked out.

N'oenar simply nodded and returned to his scans. The large number of moonlets and asteroids surrounding Roon on this side of the nebulosity demanded rapt attention, but it was difficult. His hands moved mechanically, automatically, while his mind tried to forget whose voice had taught him the intricacies of this particular ship. He could hear her, still, but in memory only. _Kerenne_. She couldn't be dead. _But you felt her slip away_. She couldn't be dead.

Biting his lip, he scowled at the control panel, pushing emotion aside. A Jedi didn't grieve. Master Yoda said, so; they all did. _Mourn them, do not. Miss them, do not. Rejoice in those that have joined the Force._ Rejoice. It was a bitter thought, to know that he was incapable of following the most basic of the Jedi principles.

What would he do?

Once they made their way through the cosmic debris field and circled the nebulosity, there was a lull while they waited for the hyperdrive calculations to complete. Unfortunately, the lack of activity destroyed N'oenar's attempts at calmness. He closed his eyes, trying to feel something in the Force… anything… she had to still be alive. The Will of the Force… the Force couldn't have willed this to happen. He wouldn't believe it.

He gave up his search when Ayliana put a hand on his shoulder. "We don't _know_ what happened… maybe… maybe he's able to cloud your senses. With just his presence. The dark side clouds everything, right? Didn't Yoda say that?"

_Could_ Vader's darkness have clouded N'oenar's senses? It could… it definitely could. That could be the answer – it had to be! He turned back to the control panel and changed one of the viewscreens to show the nebulosity that was rapidly shrinking behind them. The Cloak of the Sith.

It was an appropriate name.

"You might be right." _Please be right_. "But, Keruck…" He didn't finish. He didn't have to. Vader wouldn't have let him live - they both knew that. But was it just Force users that the Chosen One held such deadly hatred for, or all beings other than himself?

Or, perhaps, even himself. N'oenar envisioned, once again, that tiny speck of light buried beneath darkness. 

"Keruck's…" Ayliana blinked rapidly. "But the others, N'oenar. There's a chance."

Kerenne. Sarn. Zehrid. He closed his eyes again, silently pleading to whatever might listen. He would never question the Will of the Force again, if it just granted him this one boon….

The flight to Jabiim felt like an eternity. With the ship on autopilot most of the time, he had little to occupy his mind and his thoughts wandered to Kerenne, and what had happened with Jerner and Yaril, and how he could have prevented it. He tried to meditate, but it was difficult to still his thoughts long enough, and impossible to suppress his emotions the moment he let his mind drift. In an attempt to steady his mind and his emotions, he read more of the texts covering lightsaber techniques. The other texts, the dark texts hidden beneath the floorpanels, tickled his mind but he refused to pull them out. Ayliana's questions would be many, and his answers few.

The moment Jabiim appeared on the viewscreen as a tiny dot, he was suddenly reluctant. Sarn's ship was fast, much faster than the ship that he and Ayliana were in, and its presence - or lack thereof - would seal the truth for certain. It was irrational, he knew, but a tiny part of him felt that if they didn't land, then he could keep pretending… could keep that traitorous hope alive.

Sarn's ship was there at the spaceport when they landed, and N'oenar let out a shaky breath when he caught sight of it. "Ayliana, look."

"I see it." Ayliana's expression was even, but her hands shook slightly as she completed the landing sequence. At least one of them was still alive. It was better than they had a right to expect, knowing what their friends had faced.

The inspection by the spaceport personnel was thorough, and as soon as they left, N'oenar headed for the back cabin. He couldn't bring all of the texts, of course, but something compelled him to fill a small trunk with some of the forbidden texts. He rationalized it by considering that, of any of the texts, those would be the most dangerous to fall into the wrong hands. Unfortunately, he didn't know if his hands would now be included in that category.

Weighed down with their packs and the trunk, they walked more slowly than N'oenar would have liked along the pathway leading to the edge of the mudfield. This time, he didn't stare at the scenery, but kept his eyes straight ahead, every ounce of his being focused on their destination. He tried to keep his emotions in check, and ignored the nagging fear that tried to seep through his control.

Once they reached the mudfield and donned the repulsorlift skates, N'oenar was unable to keep the fear at bay. Once they acclimated to the skates, he sped their pace, hoping that, at the end of their travels, Kerenne would be there, waiting…. The wind blew his hood back and cool rain stung his face as he moved faster and faster, using the Force to increase his momentum. Beside him, Ayliana did the same.

When they arrived at the front walkway to the Noor home, they removed the skates and headed to the door on foot. Just as they reached the covered overhang, the door slid open and Sarn and Zehrid appeared in the entrance.

Zehrid, his eyes rimmed in red, stopped short when he saw N'oenar. Silently, he stared at him, then he turned away and walked back to the house. Sarn watched him go, shaking his head sadly.

Cold dread pooled in N'oenar's stomach. "Sarn, did... where is-"

Sarn put a hand on his shoulder and looked between him and Ayliana. "I think we should go inside."

It was a solemn group that made their way into the Noor home. Kylia came up as soon as they walked in and hugged first Ayliana, then N'oenar. Her normally animated face was somber, and that cold dread grew larger, filling him. He knew what Sarn was going to say.

As they passed through the study, he heard Tyrina, Kylia's aunt, order the other family members to give them some peace. When they reached the dining room, Sarn waved them to sit and then settled across from them. N'oenar glanced at Ayliana as they slid into the chairs, and noted the pallor of her cheeks. Zehrid stood against the wall, his hands deep in his pockets, and Kylia hovered nearby.

"I don't know how to say it, so I'll just be blunt. Jerner's dead." Sarn took a deep breath. "And so are Keruck and Kerenne."

The words sliced through that tiny thread of hope, and it hurt more than he'd thought possible. Such a thin thread… but now, there was nothing. N'oenar lowered his head. _Nothing_.

"How?" Ayliana's voice was just a whisper.

Zehrid answered. "Keruck caught Jerner when he came through… I was there, with him, when they came up from the kitchen. That Yaril, and Jerner. We heard the rocks falling, were headed that way…."

N'oenar looked up when Zehrid's voice trailed off, and then looked away again when he saw Kylia put a hand on the tall man's shoulder. He could feel the weight of Sarn's gaze as the man finished describing the events. "When we came up the back stairs, Yaril was gone, and Jerner was dead. Keruck… he still had his saber out. Ordered us to the ship – he felt it coming, too, I think."

"That's what he told me after the fight," Zehrid stated, his face hard. "He said that during the fight, Yaril and Jerner got this look…they felt the same thing he did. Vader was coming. Jerner'd told Yaril to leave; he tried to get Keruck come with them - Vader only knew about the two of you - but it didn't work. Keruck and Jerner - they fought…." Zehrid swallowed hard at that, and N'oenar closed his eyes for a moment. Both brothers, one killed by the other. And he had watched it happen.

Sarn nodded. "Kerenne told him what you'd said, too, about Vader coming. And what happened with Jerner down below. Anyway, he ordered us to the ship, and we were running, Keruck in the lead-"

"Yaril was long gone; I don't think he wanted to meet up with him." Zehrid shook his head.

Ayliana smiled bitterly. "I doubt it. I know they weren't planning on being there when he arrived, or they wouldn't have trapped us below. It would've been easier just to disarm us and wait until he came."

"But why? What would he want with you?" Kylia asked. "Is he a bounty hunter?"

"In a way." Ayliana looked at N'oenar. "He's… he's hunting Force users. Jerner and Yaril, they were using us as an offering."

"They want to train with him, Jerner said once. Wanted to." N'oenar rubbed his face. "You were running for the ship. What happened?" _Kerenne_.

"_He_ came."

"Like a clone trooper's armor, but black. With a cloak. Nothing I've ever seen before… it was a man, but with so much electronics and machinery… that breathing…."

"He was fast. Said something about finding the traitors," Zehrid said. N'oenar lifted his head and stared at Zehrid, swallowing when he saw the blazing anger in the other man's eyes. Perhaps, in time, he would feel the same. But for now, there was just a hollowness. 

"Vader killed him," Ayliana said softly. "Didn't he?"

"Yes. They fought, but…." Sarn turned his gaze on N'oenar. "He had a lightsaber, a red one. What _is_ he?"

N'oenar just shrugged, unable to speak.

Zehrid leaned his head back against the wall. "That's when… that's when Kerenne… she tried to help him, when he started falling back, when we knew Keruck was losing."

"I tried to grab her, but she was too quick. I didn't expect… we were hidden, back behind the door-"

"You didn't have any problem grabbing _me_," Zehrid growled. "Knocking me out, even."

Kylia pulled on Zehrid's arm, scowling. "It's a good thing he did, Zehrid, or you'd be dead, too!"

Sarn ran his hand over his thin black hair. "I had to, I couldn't…. Keruck fell, and Kerenne next. He killed them like a droid would, nothing. No emotion. Then, it was the oddest thing. He stared at them both and turned off that saber. I can still hear that hissing sound… I thought he didn't know we were there, but then he looked right over at us."

"What happened?"

"He had a message, he said. He knew Kerenne wasn't the female Jedi he was looking for, that Yaril and Jerner-" Bony hands clenched on the table "-had notified him about."

Ayliana sat back, her face strangely calm. "What was the message, Sarn?"

"I'm supposed to tell you that your light shines bright, and in time you'll pay for your treachery."

"I see." She nodded slowly. "I suppose he thought Keruck was you, N'oenar. The male Jedi."

N'oenar lowered his head again, his face in his hands. Kerenne had just been an obstacle, an insect to brush aside. He was dead, as far as Vader was concerned. And now Ayliana was the subject of the Chosen One's search.

_This_ was the will of the Force?

The following days were a blur. He remembered unpacking in the room Tyrina led him to, a room that quickly became a sanctuary for him as his desire for solitude grew. Though he spent most of his time there, he did venture out on occasion, accepting the greetings and sympathetic gestures from the rest of the family, nodding or shaking his head as the situation warranted. He watched them interact and speak and watched as, with Kylia's help, Zehrid seemed to come back to himself more, even as N'oenar retreated further.

The small trunk of dark texts sat in one corner of his room, staring at him, and in the evenings he stared back at it, wondering when he would feel the urge to study. Wondering when he would feel the urge to do anything. He ate and slept and woke, not from any desire to do so, but because it was the thing to do.

He did not speak. And, when he slept, he did not dream.

Several days later, he stood in the kitchen, staring out of the windows. The forest was back there, through the misty late-afternoon rain, and he remembered the day he had gone with Ayliana to search for the missing Iliera. She was away, visiting her grandparents for the month, for which N'oenar was grateful. The young girl had idolized Kerenne, and the sight of her would be yet another remembrance. _Zehrid says she reminds him of me, when I was her age._Tyrina's voice came from behind, and he turned to stare at her as she spoke. "You should get outside. Something to wake your mind up out of the fog… not that you should forget about her." Tyrina dabbed at her eyes. "She was an imp, she was. Lovely girl. Sarn told us that you… I'm so sorry."

He didn't feel like talking, and suddenly the thought of escaping that house seemed like a perfect thing to do. With a simple nod, he walked to the corner near the rear door and grabbed a pair of repulsorskates.

He skated over the mudfield behind the house, and soon found himself at the edge of the forest where he and Ayliana had fought the Dark Jedi. Removing his skates, he sat on a thick root system, the smattering of branches over his head only giving partial shielding from the rain. He had no desire to retreat further into the forest for shelter; the constant rain, the muddy terrain, the grayness of the planet matched his mood and he reveled in it. Reveled in the solitude, or the illusion of solitude. Immersed in his thoughts, he didn't notice that Ayliana had followed him until she spoke.

"You loved her."

He threw his hood back and, bowing his head, he let the rain bathe the back of his neck, run down the collar of his shirt, draw a trickling warm line down his back. Ayliana waited patiently and finally, he nodded. He _had_ loved her; he could admit that, now. Now that it was too late. He waited for the lecture, for the recriminations: a Jedi doesn't love; a Jedi doesn't form attachments; it can be dangerous; death is just another stage of the Force, do not mourn; the dark side is always waiting, a deep pit to fall into. He waited to hear all of these things.

But none came.

Ayliana whispered, "I think… I think she loved you, too."

He lifted his head. She had sat beside him and was holding her hand open, palm up, watching the raindrops splatter onto her fingers. She didn't meet his eyes.

"I saw you," she said, turning her hand over, tiny rivulets running in all directions as she twisted her wrist. "And I saw her. When you spoke, I could see it, could see how she…" She lowered her hand, and he watched the rain drip from her fingertips, falling to the soaked ground. Falling…. "N'oenar, I'm so sorry."

_Mourn them, do not. Miss them, do not._

"I miss her," he said, his voice cracking from disuse. How long had it been since he'd spoken? Two days? Three?

"I know."

"I shouldn't."

She looked up at him. "I know."

He bowed his head once again and, to his surprise, she pulled him into an embrace. At first he was stiff in her arms, then he let go and leaned against her.

And, finally, he wept.

Dark fell as they sat there, and eventually his tears slowed, though he still held onto Ayliana with a fierceness that would have surprised him, any other time. Not now, however. "It was my fault they found us. If I hadn't been down there with her… I drew him to us."

"Don't, N'oenar. It's as much my fault as yours; I felt it. The danger, the… but I thought it was something else. The danger _you_ were willingly inviting, by…."

He pulled his head back, though he didn't release his hold on her. "Willingly?" 

She lowered her head, the hood of her cloak concealing her face. "I thought it was just the danger of… of emotion. You and Kerenne were alone, and I didn't want to disturb you. But if I'd just gone down earlier, maybe…."

"I thought you didn't trust her." He let his arms drop.

"I didn't, at first, on Coruscant. I could sense she was after something, but I didn't know exactly what. Once I figured it out, though…." 

He sat in silence, absorbing her words, tilting his head back to look at the patches of stars that showed between interlacing leaves and branches. He imagined, for a moment, that the branches were lifelines, touching and crossing and then leaving again without sense or order. One thin branch crossed many other branches, eventually curving back in on itself to touch one it had brushed early in its travels.

Lowering his head, he looked out across the mud field towards the house and asked, "What did you two argue about, right before we left Coruscant?"

She didn't answer immediately, and he turned his head to look at her. A fallen branch in her hand, she was drawing a shape in the mud before them, but he couldn't make out what it was. "How did you know about that?"

"She told me. But she wouldn't tell me what it was about, exactly."

Ayliana sighed, dropping the stick. "It was about Toryndo. And you."

"She said that much."

Sighing again, Ayliana pulled her cloak around her. "I knew Toryndo had a friend in the undercity. But I didn't realize it was her. She and Toryndo… they were…."

"Close." N'oenar smiled slightly when Ayliana glanced at him. "She told me, just before… just before Jerner came."

"Oh. Well. I thought… I knew you were sheltered more than a lot of the others, and I was worried she may have similar designs on you. I didn't think you'd know how to handle it."

He couldn't argue with her reasoning. She was right; he wouldn't have known how to handle it. Not then. "Is that what you told her?"

"Not exactly. I just told her I was worried about her intentions. And she…."

"She what?"

"She said I ought to be worried about my own intentions. That I must have been trying to get you killed, sending you out alone into the undercity." 

"But, you didn't-"

"I know. She was just worried."

N'oenar nodded slowly. "So that's why you didn't like her. You didn't trust her intentions with me."

"At first."

"What changed?"

"I began to sense… that it was different with you. On the way to Roon, it was clearer and clearer. She didn't want… not like with Toryndo." Ayliana looked away, back to the muddy ground before them. "You remember the Naboo sculpture? The one in the Roon archives?"

"The one Sarn saw." The one guarding the forbidden texts.

Ayliana nodded. "The two people... they face away from one another, but their stance and the feel of it, you know they're in love. I can't explain it, not even now, but… that's the same feeling I got, that last moment, before we left."

N'oenar lowered his head, pressing the heels of his hands hard against his eyes. "It was forbidden." 

"But it isn't _evil_." Ayliana put her hand on his shoulder. "What's evil is what it can prompt someone to do, if it's twisted…."

"Like Jerner." _And Anakin Skywalker_.

"Like Jerner," she agreed. 

He clenched his jaw and stood.

That night, he _would_ dream.

The numbness finally broken, grief and anger filled the void. He lay down, determinedly closing his eyes. He willed himself to calmness, and when that failed, he willed himself to sleep despite the roiling of emotions within him. His suspicions were white heat and anger and fear and pain, and he _had_ to know….

_The world around him faded, and he stood in a long corridor. He strode down it, his feet making scuffing noises as they brushed the dusty stone. Moving faster and faster, he turned one bend and then another, his anger and pain searing him as it flowed through his veins like blood, growing more and intense with each heartbeat, with each step. _

Finally, he stopped short. This was getting him nowhere. Lifting his face to the ceiling, he shouted for his Master, rage fueling his voice. "Master Dannew!"

He hadn't really expected it to work, and so jumped slightly when the man appeared from the shadows. The sorrow on Master Dannew's face was indescribable, but instead of arousing sympathy, it raised his anger. 

Fists clenched so tightly that his short nails bit into his palms, N'oenar stepped towards his Master. "The cliff's edge? The cliff. That's what it meant, wasn't it? Emotion, love; that's_ the cliff that Kerenne pulled me towards, isn't it?" And then she disappeared… once they had fallen over the edge, his arms closed around nothing. It was so clear, in retrospect._

Master Dannew said nothing, only stared at him sadly.

The silence drove him to continue speaking, to fill the void outside, even if the void within still ate at him. "You even told me, as we fell… I heard it more than once! 'To be saved, it must be broken.' The cliff, the stone crumbling, everything… you wanted me to break the Code, to have emotion, passion… you wanted me to feel something for her, didn't you?" Still no answer. "Didn't you?"

"You see much."

"Why? Why, by all the… why?" Why did you want to torture me?__

"The bantha, it is difficult to lead. Things sometimes are lost, before it is realized how precious they are."

"The bantha… the dark side." N'oenar squeezed his eyes shut. "That's why… that's what this is, isn't it? I had to break the code, to fall… to feel emotion, to start using the dark side."

Master Dannew nodded slowly. "Smolder only-"

"What if I want to blaze?" N'oenar shouted, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. It was impossible to imagine. A Dark Jedi, a rogue Jedi-

"A Gray Jedi."

N'oenar shook his head savagely. "Not a Jedi at all." He could feel tears form and he turned his head. "But I will… I will follow my final orders. Not for **you**, and not for **me**, but to protect the people I have left. Ayliana-"

"You will shroud the light?"

N'oenar rubbed the back of his neck, anger still prickling along his skin, but no longer the blazing heat of earlier. Instead, it was being replaced by the dullest pain, heavy and all-encompassing. How could he bear this burden? To walk both sides, without falling… how? But, on the other hand, how could he once again be the cause of someone he cared about… someone he loved… how could he be the cause of their death?

He was well-trapped, indeed. Smolder, he would.

"Yes. I will shroud the light."

"Hide. Live." Master Dannew held out his hand, and in his palm was N'oenar's braid. "My Padawan, you remain."

N'oenar reached out automatically and then stopped, staring at the dark brown braid. Several heartbeats passed, then he dropped his hand and, shaking his head, walked away. 

When he woke, he sat up and moved to the edge of the bed, his bare feet chilled by the stone floor. The books called to him already. Their secrets, so close; the knowledge he needed to protect Ayliana, so close.

The dark, so close.

He sat forward, resting his head in his hands, tufts of hair peeking from between his fingers – it had grown, these past months, to a length unfamiliar to him in his previous life.

_His previous life. _

His world was no longer in fragments, as he had once envisioned. The fragments had joined back together, but in two separate, distinct sections. A wide chasm lay between the two halves, and he was falling….

_Shroud the light._

_Do what you must, to protect that which is most precious._

He stood and walked to the small trunk he'd brought from the ship. Opening it, he pulled out two texts, and then quietly walked out to the dining room. No one would see the glare of glowbulbs from that room, and so he could study in privacy. Taking a deep breath, he opened the first book and began to read.

With pain and a lingering anger still as fresh as an open wound, he found that it was much easier to read without blanching. Before, with his pain more removed, the darkness of the tomes had been overwhelming; now, however, the pain and anger were present and active, roiling like a black cloud in his mind and heart, and he could see more in the promise of the dark words. Vengeance lay within those pages.

Jerner was dead, but Yaril had escaped. And N'oenar would find him.

N'oenar had the second book open when Ayliana appeared in the doorway, perhaps drawn by his wildly flickering light signature in the Force - the shroud was simple enough, but it would take practice.

With a frown, she sat across from him, and he didn't bother trying to shield what he was reading. "You're… that's…"

"Yes." He lowered his eyes to the book and continued to read.

"But you said that to use the shroud, you had to use the dark side."

"Yes."

"N'oenar! You can't!"

Finally, he lifted his head and caught her gaze. Her eyes were wide, which rather ruined the image she tried to portray of the quintessential Jedi.

"I have to, Ayliana. The shroud. If I'd used it, before, then Jerner wouldn't have known where I was. He could sense me-"

"He could sense all of us."

"_No_." N'oenar stood and leaned on the table, the joints of his fingers protesting as he pressed down with his entire weight. "No. He didn't walk both sides… he had gone to the dark, completely."

"What do you mean?"

"Do you remember, on Gabris Prime, when you helped me meditate? The first time?" She nodded. "Do you remember that surge in the Force? You told me not to tell you about it, unless it brought me comfort to speak of it. When I was ready."

"I remember."

"It was a voice." His eyes bore into Ayliana's. "It said, 'One who exists in the light alone will only see light. One who exists in the darkness alone will only see dark. But one who exists in both will see all.'"

She stared at him, chewing her lip. "But Vader-"

"Exists in both." When he saw her shake her head minutely, he pushed away from the table and paced the length of the room, telling her of what he had seen, in the thick darkness that had approached Roon. That kernel of light in the very center. Buried deep, but present. The Chosen One. "That's how you sensed him - that little bit of light that he's still got left. If he was completely dark…."

"Oh." Ayliana shook her head again. "N'oenar, I've never heard of any of this before-"

He whirled to face her. "How do you think the Chancellor was able to get away with what he did?" When she winced and nodded in the direction of the bedrooms, he continued in a softer voice, "The dark, Ayliana. He kept up the shroud, most times, but on occasion it would fall. Most of the Jedi walk only in the light, and couldn't see it. Even those that had a chance of sensing the dark assumed it was someone around him."

She stared at him, then slowly nodded. "It makes sense… I had wondered…. But, N'oenar, what good will-"

"That which is forbidden will be our salvation." N'oenar's jaw set. "That's what Master Dannew said, and I believe him."

"But the Code forbids…." Her voice was weak, unsure. Just like his faith. He bent his head and then, without warning, a wave of heat burned through him. Anger.

"There **_is_** no Code!"

"There is, so long as we live." She stared at him before lowering her gaze to the book that lay open on the table. In a low voice, she amended, "So long as _I_ live." Without another word, she stood and touched his arm, then left the room. He remained frozen, staring after her, until finally he dropped back into the chair and furiously continued to read. 

The rest of that day, N'oenar avoided Ayliana. Or, more precisely, he avoided being alone with her – there was nothing she could say to change his mind, but he knew she'd try. It was her duty, after all. As he wandered the Noor home, studying his texts in whatever room was occupied, he continued to organize his thoughts and arguments, readying himself for the inevitable conversation. He didn't dare study alone, and not only because he wished to avoid the discussion until he was better prepared; the sound of Kerenne's laugh or the vision of that crooked smile invaded his thoughts when he indulged in solitude. A blessing and a curse.

Later that evening, he gravitated to the game room and put his book aside, watching the others as they played. Zehrid threw himself into the games with a single-minded intensity that N'oenar envied. His thoughts must have shown on his face, because Kylia – who was sitting out one round - leaned over and said, "He's right, you know. Dwelling on everything won't make it better - best to distract yourself, somehow."

"Easier said than done."

"Of course." He looked at her, startled by her matter-of-fact tone, and she smiled softly. "Have you ever known anything that was as easy to do as it was to talk about?"

He chuckled despite himself. "One or two things, yes."

"All right, _some_ things are a bit easier to show than tell, but not much." Kylia slapped his arm lightly. "You could use a distraction. Let's play."

"I don't think getting demolished in holochess will be much of a distraction."

"I'll teach you some tricks."

N'oenar acquiesced, more because he spotted Ayliana enter the room than from any real interest. But, as they sat and worked through some tips and tricks, he began to appreciate the distraction in its own right.

Some time later, Sarn sat back from the table he shared with Ayliana and shook his head. "And there it is – you've destroyed me once again, young lady. I do believe three straight defeats is a signal that it's time for me to go to bed." Ayliana laughed as he stood. "Don't stay up too late, now."

"Right, right. Night, Sarn," Metar muttered, his eyes feverishly scanning the holochess board. Zehrid smiled widely, and N'oenar knew it was hopeless for Metar – Zehrid only held that sort of look when he had someone in a corner, with no escape.

Much the way Kylia had N'oenar in a corner. With a sigh, he looked back at the holochess board before him and shook his head. "Your game. I'm not even going to torture the holofigures by making them go through any more."

Kylia winked at him and stood. "Well, it's about on time. I've got to get up early to get some work done, so I'm going to head on to bed. Metar, are you coming?"

"We're still playin-"

"No, you're not. He's got you in three moves, four at the most. See?" Kylia leaned over the table and pointed out the next moves that would seal Metar's fate. The holographic figures looked quite vulnerable as she outlined their demise. Metar still looked rebellious, and Kylia poked his shoulder. "I swear, you're worse than Iliera about avoiding sleep. Come on, you're supposed to go with me to the appointment tomorrow morning, and you're useless when you're tired."

"Right, right," Metar muttered again, standing. "Thanks for the game, Zehrid."

"You're a worthy opponent." Zehrid stretched and glanced at Ayliana before turning back to Metar. "You know, I'm going to follow you guys, I think. Night, everyone."

As they all filed out, N'oenar looked over at Ayliana, wondering if she'd signaled to Zehrid, somehow, that she wanted to talk to him alone. When she met his gaze with an innocent, wide-eyed stare, he didn't wonder any longer.

The moment everyone was gone, Ayliana spoke. "I wanted to talk to you, N'oenar."

"So I gathered." He smiled briefly, then steeled himself to hear her arguments. He had some ready, himself. "What about?"

"Well, I've been thinking about what we talked about last night-"

He could sense her hesitation, and before she could continue, he interrupted her. She had to know - the Code _had_ to be broken. "Ayliana, wait. Before you start in on me, I want… just let me explain a few things."

She nodded and waited silently. 

"I never told you what Master Dannew said about the Code, in one of my dreams."

"What?"

"_If the Code is not broken then it will fade, and blow away like dust from the memories of the living. Things broken can be remade, but things that fade and disappear are gone forever._" He nodded grimly when she sucked in a breath. "And then, my final orders from Master Lomar. Hide. Live. There's no way to hide, now, without the shroud." _There's no way to live._

"He had to have a reason. He didn't tell me the same…." Ayliana frowned, and he knew her mind was on her former Master, and his final words to them both.

In his pocket, his right hand curled around the braid, one finger stroking it. He could still remember the way Master Lomar had cut it from his head, and how he'd reached out to grab it, clutching at it as if it was the key to what was going on. "What _did_ he tell you?"

"He told me to watch out for you, for us both. And that it was up to me to mark the path…."

"To mark the path," N'oenar repeated. She had led them through the undercity, marking their path. That was the simplest of meanings. But there was another meaning, now…. _You are the Keeper of the Knowledge. You will do what you must, to protect that which is most precious. She is the Keeper of the Faith. She will ensure you do not blaze, to protect that which is most precious."_

"Yes. Are you… are you going to follow your orders from Master Lomar?"

"I will. I have to. But, if something goes wrong…" N'oenar shook his head. "Ayliana, you'll need to learn, too. You don't have to read the texts; I'll study, and I could teach you-"

"I think… if the Force wills it…." She shook her head. "But for now, it appears that you are the one to learn."

It wasn't a yes or no. He ignored the strange look that came over her face when she glanced at him and decided to try, once more. They had been through a great deal together - too much - and he knew with a bone-deep dread that their trials weren't over. "Ayliana. The Jedi are gone. We're not… we're not bound by their rules anymore." 

Tears filled her eyes and he watched in horror as her shaking lips formed the words, "You think I don't know that?" He couldn't answer; bitter shame filled him as she continued, her voice rising in strength. "What if we're the last ones? Who will continue it, if we don't? The knowledge we have… all the knowledge _you_ have-"

Abruptly she stopped, her eyes widening. In a whisper, as if speaking to herself, she said, "The knowledge you have… all that knowledge… the history… Keeper of the Knowledge. Of course! Why did it take me so long?" 

"Ayliana?"

She shook her head, and gave him a small smile. "Practice the shroud, N'oenar. The Force's will is balance. The knowledge shouldn't be lost." Then, before he could question her about her meaning, she left.

She wouldn't even _try_. Unaccountably furious, he paced in the game area, restlessly trying to come up with some argument, some explanation, that might sway her. But he couldn't think; anger and shame formed a roadblock in his mind.

_Distraction._ With a growl, he slammed into his room and pulled out one of the practice sabers. Forcing himself to concentrate, he moved through the forms until the cloud of emotion dissipated, and he could think clearly once more. 

He closed his eyes, leaning against the wall, breathing heavily. It was harder and harder, now, to calm himself, to let that flood of emotion retreat so that the dark couldn't claw away at his firm control. How could one exist like this for long? How?

Hours later, before the sun began to filter through the round windows, he sat in the dining area, an open text before him, but he didn't look at it. He could hide himself well, now, and practice was all that he needed. It would have to become second nature to him at some point. But that meant that the dark side would become second nature, and he still felt a gut-level reluctance to allow that to happen. Too many Jedi, all more talented and highly trained, had fallen to the dark side. The constant balancing between the two sides was wearying, particularly when he was already fatigued from grief and lack of productive sleep. In his current state, he didn't dare crack open some of the darkest texts he had read that first night, after his dream with Master Dannew.

His failure to broach the subject of Ayliana learning to use the shroud ate at him, as did other failures. A firestone was in his hand, and as he closed his fingers around it, he recalled the day he and Kerenne had first seen the glowing stones in Sarn and Rohnid's shop.

As if summoned by his very thoughts, Sarn appeared, bearing two cups. "Good morning. Or is it evening for you?"

"A little of both. I couldn't sleep." N'oenar opened his hand, letting the stone drop to the table. The glow faded once it left his fingers.

"Ah." Sarn set one cup down in front of him and then slid into the seat next to him. "Tyrina's best barkleaf."

"Thanks," N'oenar murmured, picking up the steaming cup and smiling at the design. The outside was a bright orange, which reminded him of Kylia, while the inner lip fairly glowed with bright pink. It would certainly wake a person up, even if the liquid inside didn't. He took a cautious sip, wincing at the harshness of the barkleaf as soon as it touched his tongue, but found that it did clear his thoughts. "Rough mix."

"Brings a man's mind into focus, it does."

_And rips the taste buds from his tongue,_ N'oenar thought as he took another sip. The second swallow was smoother, but he didn't know if he was adapting to the flavor or if his taste buds had simply been destroyed by the first sip.

Sarn sat back, letting out a contented sigh after a long sip of his drink. "You've still got those firerocks?"

"I don't know if I told how you useful these were, after Yaril took us."

Sarn looked at him, raising an eyebrow.

"They lit the room well, the one we were locked in. Before Keruck came."

"He was devastated, when he found out what had happened. What Jerner had done." Sarn shook his head. "He couldn't understand it."

"I do." At Sarn's questioning look, N'oenar shrugged. "If Jerner didn't use us to get his brother released, that would be the betrayal, in his eyes. I don't think he wanted to, really… his hand was forced."

"Strange, the way the mind works. By doing what he did, he betrayed Keruck."

Seeing the short man's downturned eyes, N'oenar reached out and grasped his arm. "He was very fond of both you and Rohnid. You were good friends to him."

"Rohnid especially. I don't even know how I'll break the news… the only thing I looked forward to _less_ was telling you about Kerenne."

N'oenar closed his eyes and nodded. "I… I already knew. I felt it, when they were killed. But I was hoping… I hoped it was just the dark side, clouding my perceptions, but…." 

"The dark side, eh? Rohnid and Keruck used to talk a lot about such things; I never got too much into it, since it didn't involve me." Sarn gave a short laugh, then. "Well, since I _thought_ it wouldn't involve me."

"Was… was Rohnid somehow connected-"

"Smart chap – much smarter than he lets on. Honest and trusting, though, more's the pity. Can never send him on big buying expeditions, though he is rather good at sales. I tease him that it's because he looks gullible, but he's got a quite a talent for it, really." A sincere smile came to Sarn's face, and even N'oenar's lips twitched. "Keruck tested him, said his blood was borderline, whatever that means."

"He'd never been tested before?"

"No. He's from the Hroten province. That's the one Keruck and I were telling you about - they don't go in for testing the youngsters and handing them over to be taken away for good." He smiled, sipping at his drink.

"Your relatives are in that province, aren't they? Were they ever tested?"

Sarn shook his head. "I wonder sometimes if my niece might have some of the talent. She's a might bit persuasive. Then again, so was Kerenne, and she hadn't any of the Force running through her veins. Reminds me of her, actually, Brienna does. Same smile, like they're hiding something. Wicked things, both of them."

N'oenar picked up the firerock and rolled it in his hands, staring intently at the light glimmering between his fingers. _Distraction_.

"Willing to take risks." Sarn placed a hand on his shoulder, and when he looked up, Sarn nodded at the open text on the table. "So are you."

"I…"

"If it's for the right reasons, you'll get no argument from me, son." With a final clap on the shoulder, Sarn stood and picked up his cup, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

Two hours later, after he had secreted the text back in his room and pulled on a fresh tunic, he returned to the dining area for breakfast with everyone. It was odd, in a way – he was accustomed to being alone in the room, and it was a strange feeling to sit down among a table full of people. A table that almost groaned under the weight of the dishes Tyrina set down.

"How many people are you feeding?" Kylia asked, shaking her head at her aunt as she entered the room. 

"Growing boys eat a fair shipload of food, girl, and you know that well enough." Tyrina glanced at Sarn. "And it might be the last good breakfast we all have together, after what you told me earlier."

"I've got to get back to Gabris Prime. Break the news to Rohnid," Sarn said in a low voice. "And my wife might be thinking I've gone and abandoned her."

"Can't have that. She may be just waiting for the right moment to have another sexy man move into the place," Tyrina said with a wink. 

"If he'll clean out the garbage droid's filter, I'd welcome him with open arms."

Metar laughed despite his mouthful of food, which earned him a smack on the head from his mother.

"And, speaking of welcoming," Sarn said, looking from Zehrid to Ayliana to N'oenar. "You're all welcome to return with me. The offer still stands – we could use some help in the shop, and goodness knows I could use it on my trips."

Zehrid caught Kylia's gaze, and when she nodded, he said, "I'll probably go with you. I kind of liked Gabris Prime."

"He's been telling me a lot about it." Kylia grinned. "Who knows? Maybe I'll make my way there once I'm done my apprenticeship here. I don't think I'll be heading back to Coruscant, the way things have been going."

Tyrina nodded. "Not a bad plan, young lady. I just wish your mother-"

"Mom won't leave Coruscant, not while she's still able to run her club." Kylia shrugged. "So far, the Emperor hasn't tried to shut any of them down, so long as they pay their tribute." Tyrina made a tutting noise and shook her head.

"We're working on her, though." Metar said, leaning back in his chair. "She might come around eventually."

"Maybe, if the tribute keeps going up."

"And what about you two?"

"You're welcome to stay here, if you'd like," Tyrina said. "Lysira would be pleased about that – she'd feel like she's got an eye on you."

Ayliana smiled. "Thank you, but I think we'll probably head to Gabris Prime… if N'oenar's in agreement, of course."

"I am." The idea that she would have changed her mind, had he wanted something else, warmed him. They were a team… a family, if such a thing could be said. But, even as that thought hit him, a sense of foreboding began to grow along the edges of his mind. A team, but he was the only one that could protect himself. She would be vulnerable, so long as she stubbornly clung to her denial of the shroud.

Sarn smiled and winked at them. "Good. I think we'd best leave sometime later today, if that sounds good to everyone. I've eaten up enough of Madam Noor's food." They all agreed, and the rest of the meal passed uneventfully. When they were done, they lingered at the table, discussing the logistics of the trip. Kylia and Metar left to attend their appointment, first gathering promises that they wouldn't leave until the two had returned.

Once the travelers were alone, Sarn looked at Ayliana and N'oenar. "I'm glad you'll be coming. If nothing else, we've got plenty of storage area for those texts of yours." 

N'oenar blinked – he hadn't even considered where they would store the texts. Since Kerenne's death, he hadn't been thinking clearly on many things. "Thanks, Sarn."

"There's one disadvantage no one's mentioned yet," Zehrid said. "Yaril may still be there."

"There's danger, no matter where we go. If he's there, we'll take care of him." Ayliana's expression was calm, and firm. "But he might have returned to Utapau, or anywhere else; there's no guarantee he's on Gabris Prime." 

N'oenar simply nodded, but under the table, his hand tightened on the hilt of his saber. _There's no guarantee, but I hope he is. I hope he is._

Later that day, N'oenar sat in his room, packing. His clothes took little time, though Kylia's gifts of new tunics and cloaks took up more room than he'd expected. He had protested the items, as had Ayliana and Zehrid, but Kylia just put her hands on her hips and informed them - with a laugh in her voice - that Lysira had unofficially adopted them all and wouldn't allow them to wear threadbare clothing.

Once that part of the packing was done, he turned to the small table next to the bed, picking up the book that lay there. _From the Safety of the Shroud_. Reverently, he placed it on top of the other texts in the small trunk and snapped the lid closed. When he passed his hand in front of the closure, sealing the texts within, a deep foreboding grew in him. Yaril could be on Gabris Prime, as Zehrid had pointed out. Could Vader be headed there? While unlikely, there was always the chance. _There's danger, no matter where we go._

If Ayliana would just learn… just enough to consciously bring the shroud up…. He was at her door before he even realized he'd made the final decision to speak to her. Drawing in a deep breath, he knocked.

She let him in, and he wasn't surprised to see that she was already done packing. No sign remained of her presence, aside from the full packs next to the door and the rigidly arranged bedcovers on the mattress. The Noors weren't so concerned with precisely cornered sheets and blankets, but it was a habit that Ayliana hadn't yet lost.

"Are you all right, N'oenar?"

"I'm fine, but…." He took another deep breath. "You were right, when you said there's danger wherever we go. And I know you didn't like the idea the first time I brought it up, but it only makes sense, Ayliana. The shroud - it will hide you, hide your light, so that Vader or whoever's looking for Force users won't sense you."

"You were ordered to hide, N'oenar. I wasn't."

"But you could just learn enough to-"

She shook her head resolutely. "It's against all our teachings."

"Against our teachings?" N'oenar ran a hand through his hair, a hand that shook with frustration. It was the only thing that made sense - why couldn't she _see_ it? Stubborn. Like a bantha…. "So is running and hiding. So is forming friendships and loving people and-"

"That's different, N'oenar. The dark side…." When he opened his mouth again, she raised her hand to stop him. "I'm sorry. I just can't. I just… I can't."

"You'll die." His voice was savage, much harsher than he'd intended, but he didn't take the words back. They were truth, and the pain of them burned.

She stood, her bearing regal, her face calm. Certain.

"Then I'll die a Jedi."


	21. Chapter 20

Author's Note: Yes, it's really, really true - I've updated! There aren't enough apologies for the long wait between updates, so I throw myself on the mercy of the readers (if I still have any ;) ) and promise that the next chapter is 85 complete and will be up within two weeks of tonight even if I have to play hooky from work! We're in the home stretch - one more chapter after this (the one that's almost finished), and then the epilogue.

Many, many thanks to Buttercup for her awesome beta talents!!

**_Severing the Past_**

**WendyNat**

Chapter Twenty  
-------------------

As they approached Gabris Prime, N'oenar felt a stronger sense of warning than before. It grew with each passing moment, and as he looked at the planet on the computer's navigation screen, he knew that the shroud would be needed. Soon. Danger grew in his mind, like a distant storm prickling the hairs on the back of his neck hours before the winds hit. 

Leaving Zehrid alone on the bridge, he made his way to Ayliana's cabin. He had to convince her to use the shroud; he could feel the danger, even if she couldn't. Perhaps it was his link to the dark that allowed him to sense the foreboding, or perhaps she denied her own awareness so as not to be swayed in her stance. Either way, he needed to speak to her before they reached the planet. The real problem was how to broach the subject; she'd been adamant, when last they spoke of the shroud.

The door opened when he approached, and he realized that he must have let the shroud slip, allowing Ayliana to sense his approach. He had to get better at it, had to let it become second nature, even though the thought of the dark side becoming second nature frightened him.

"Hi," he said awkwardly, then cursed himself when she gave him an odd look. 

"Zehrid's handling the bridge alone, I suppose," Ayliana said. "We should be there soon, right?"

"Not too much longer. Tomorrow morning. If we could land at night, we'd be there in a few hours."

"The electrical storms. Right." Ayliana gave him another odd look. He should have known she would sense his discomfort. "Did you need something, N'oenar?"

N'oenar decided to just jump into the subject. "Are you sure you won't learn, Ayliana? The shroud will be needed, I can feel it."

She smiled slightly and shook her head. "It is not for me."

Why couldn't she _see_? "Don't you feel it, Ayliana? The foreboding? You have to feel it – your senses have always been more acute than mine."

"I can feel something." Ayliana's smile slipped, then. "But I don't know whether it is something far away, or near… I can't tell."

"Distance means nothing to the Force. Distance, size, these are all constructs of the mind. The Force cares not for these things. It is everywhere and nowhere, at once."

Ayliana raised an eyebrow. "I remember the youngling lectures as well as you do, N'oenar." 

"I know. I'm sorry." He sighed and rubbed his head. "I can't think, Ayliana. There's so much in my head, so much that's happened, it's all a jumble…."

She looked at him for a long moment, then said, "I was preparing to meditate when I felt you approach. You're welcome to join me, if you'd like." 

Gratefully, he nodded. She knelt on the bed and motioned him to join her. "It's not a meditation chair, but it'll have to do."

"We've had to make do a lot these past months," N'oenar said with a wry smile as he knelt before her. "It's not a problem."

"Right. Well, let's try it the way we've been doing," she said, holding out her hands. 

N'oenar reached for them, sighing when he felt her calm touch. She was a comfort to him – the only piece of _home_ that he had left.

"Feel the Force. Feel it flow through me, through my voice, through-"

_Which side?_ With a shock, he pulled his hands away. At her questioning stare, he stammered, "I… can't. I don't want to…."

The creases in her brow smoothed as she caught his meaning. "It's not a disease, N'oenar. I can't catch it from you." Then she chuckled. "Weren't you trying to get me to use the shroud, and the dark side, a few minutes ago?"

He laughed uneasily and nodded. "I'm sorry. It's silly, I just… never mind." Swallowing, he held his hands out again, and lost himself in her voice. After some time, he reached the plateau he'd strived for so often, floating on the tides of the Force, without care or worry. As he floated, another voice came to him through the fog, and he knew it was Master Dannew, though he didn't see him. "Courage is rightly considered the foremost of the virtues, for upon it, all others depend."

A deep satisfaction welled within N'oenar at the voice, and he continued to drift, allowing the Force to take his confusion away, at least for a time. Gray haze began to fade to black when he heard another voice, one that he didn't recognize. "Bend the rod while it is still hot."

His eyes sprang open, meeting Ayliana's confused ones. "What was that?" she asked. "I heard a voice… something happened."

N'oenar pulled his hands from her grasp, too frightened to ask her which voice she'd heard, and shook his head. "I…." With another shake of his head, he rose and left the cabin.

That evening, he welcomed the dreams.

_N'oenar walked the corridor of the Jedi archives, pausing before the Jedi code for only a moment before passing into the library beyond. When he reached the Nubian statue, he stopped, and his fists clenched as he remembered Ayliana's words on Jabiim, after Kerenne had been killed._

Love, guarding darkness, he thought, then he froze as another thought hit him. Was the statue guarding the darkness, or acting as a gateway to it? A method of holding back the darkness, or a symbolic representation of how one could fall?

He heard footsteps behind him, and he turned to see Master Dannew approach. "Questions you have, questions without answers. Watch, and learn."

The familiar swirling tide took him then, and though he offered it no resistance he still was given no control over its destination. Finally, it stilled, and he found himself in an apartment, high above Coruscant.

Anakin Skywalker and a woman stood in front of a wide, sloping window. "Something's happening… I'm not the Jedi I should be. I want more, and I know I shouldn't."

"You expect too much of yourself."

"I have found a way to save you, Padmé."

Save her? Before N'oenar had a chance to contemplate the meaning, the image faded and he once again stood on a river of lava, the bright river flowing around him without injury. The man lying on the bank of the lava river was so different from the strong, confident man he had seen in the previous vision that it made N'oenar want to weep. Anakin Skywalker writhed, his figure blackened and charred, one hand mechanically pulling at the dark sand, trying to gain purchase. Obi-Wan Kenobi stood facing the river, and his former apprentice.

"You were the Chosen One! It was said that you would destroy the Sith, not join them. Bring balance to the Force, not leave it in Darkness!" 

The answer came, soaked in pain, a fierce rage forcing words through heat-seared lungs. "I hate you!"

Obi-Wan looked down at his former apprentice, and the pain on his face hit N'oenar with more power than the anguished cries of the burning man. "You were my brother, Anakin. I loved you."

Mercifully, the scene shifted again, and now N'oenar found himself in the old archives of the Jedi Temple. Master Dannew sat at one of the study tables, bent over a text, one ancient page crackling as he slowly turned to the next.

"Master?"

Master Dannew did not raise his head. "Master Yoda foresaw much danger with Anakin's training. Perhaps he felt the warning in the Force." 

"Anakin loved Padmé, Senator Amidala." 

"Yes." Master Dannew sighed. "He saw her death, in dreams, and found a way to avoid his visions, or so he thought. The Emperor promised much, if Anakin blazed. And so he did, to save her, so desperate was he that she not join the Force." 

"But... she was a great proponent of peace! She'd rather die that have all of this happen!" And she ended up dying anyway, N'oenar thought.

Master Dannew looked up, finally. "You see, don't you, Padawan? It was his need, his desire, not hers. A selfish need, though he did not see it as such. Emotions are often selfish in nature."

"Obi-Wan… he loved Anakin. Like a brother, he said. Why didn't… why didn't it affect him the same way?"

"He did not blaze. Selfishness and greed fuel the fires of the dark side, even more than pain or anger."

"Master Dannew…" N'oenar swallowed, his throat dry. "How was Master Windu able to master Vaapad, while others fell?"

"It is a seductive weapon," Master Dannew murmured, fingering the rough edge of the text. N'oenar wondered which it was, and whether it was one of the forbidden volumes. "Without knowledge to aid you, knowledge that Master Windu spent years gaining…." His Master's shoulders slumped. 

"Master?"

"I did not have time, Padawan. I do not have time to lead you to the same knowledge, to teach you to straddle both sides of the Force, and so I send you to the dragonsnake's den, with nothing more than hints and dreams to guide you." Master Dannew spread out his hands, almost an entreaty. "It is a risk, but one that must be made." 

"Why? Why must it be made?" N'oenar stepped forward. With one question asked, the dam was broken. "What is the next task? Why do you want me_ to maintain the shroud, but not Ayliana? Who are the birds? What's the silver cage?" _

"Soon, Padawan. Soon it will be made clear."

"I need to know now!"

"When it is time, you will know. Keep your sights on the will of the Force, and-"

Rage drew up within him. "I don't **care**_ about the will of the Force!"_

Master Dannew looked at him, then nodded slowly. "I understand."

N'oenar blinked, the rage dimming as quickly as it had risen. "Master, I didn't mean… No. No, you don't understand."

"What you said before was the voice of emotion. Focus, push emotion aside, and listen to my words; they are a reflection of your rational mind." 

"My rational mind?"

"Your emotions stand opposed to what you know must be done. It is often so." 

"That's why they're forbidden to the Jedi, isn't it?" You're not a Jedi.__

"My Padawan, you remain." Master Dannew placed his hand over N'oenar's, and N'oenar could feel the braid pressing into his flesh, almost scorching. "Even now." 

---

The landing maneuvers took far too long in N'oenar's estimation. He wondered whether it was his impatience to discover the source of the warning, or his desire to fast-forward past any activities that would remind him of their last visit to this planet, of Kerenne.

Old Scratchy came up to them, datapad in one hand and chin in the other. "Welcome to Gabris Prime. Got some warnings for you-"

"We know about the electrical storms," Zehrid said, and immediately the being shook its head, the loose skin around its chin flapping.

"Not just that. There've been some disappearing beings, of late. No tourists yet."

"Disappearing?" Ayliana stepped forward, her face safely hidden by the hood of her cloak. The shape was reminiscent of a traditional Jedi robe, but the color was anything but traditional. Deep purple with a glaring red lining, which Kylia had insisted set off Ayliana's features. If she could handle this change, why couldn't she at least consider learning of the shroud? N'oenar thought, though he knew it was irrational.

Old Scratchy waved a hand dismissively, the two thick fingers wiggling. "Don't worry too much, just slave traders. They've not got a tourist yet, like I said. Just stay out of the rural provinces, you'll be fine."

"Is anything being done to get-" Ayliana stopped speaking abruptly when Zehrid's foot made contact with her ankle. She shot him a frown, but didn't continue her question.

Zehrid grinned at the being. "We'll be careful." Old Scratchy just nodded and continued with his short speech, ending with the warning about the lightning storms despite Zehrid's earlier comment. They nodded politely and headed out of the spaceport, quickly procuring a speedercart pilot.

As the speedercart pulled away from the spaceport, Zehrid leaned toward Ayliana. "We're trying _not_ to be remembered, Ayliana. Ask too many questions…"

She nodded sharply, but didn't answer. With a sigh, Zehrid looked over at N'oenar, one eyebrow lifted in question, but N'oenar just shrugged.

This time, the beauty of the planet wasn't able to penetrate N'oenar's dark thoughts. Silent, he watched the light sparkle off of red and blue crystals, obsessively counting each colored mound as the speedercart swept along the planet. He had reached thirteen red and eleven blue by the time they reached Grethid district.

When they made it through the crowds to Rohnid's Rarities, the sign indicated that it was closed. N'oenar reached out with his senses, and felt the presence of his friends within. "They're inside."

"I guess he's telling Rohnid the news," Zehrid said, his voice low. "We'd better let them know we're here."

N'oenar looked over at the button next to the door and hesitated, reluctant to signal their presence to the two men within.

"We can't stay out here," Ayliana whispered. With a nod, N'oenar took a deep breath and pressed the button. A moment later, the door slid open and they entered.

Sarn was already there, as they'd suspected. Rohnid's eyes were red, but it appeared that the initial shock was over. N'oenar thanked Sarn silently for having such a fast ship – he didn't think he would have been able to face Rohnid's grief.

After their initial greetings, Sarn slid behind the counter to look over the sales records from the past weeks, and the conversation moved to other subjects.

"What's the situation with the people disappearing?" Ayliana asked. "Zehrid kicked me before I could find out more, earlier."

"Slavers, from Rattatack, I think. Officially, slavery's outlawed on Gabris Prime. Unofficially…" Rohnid shook his head, his face troubled.

N'oenar frowned. "We saw one of their ships, when we left Gabris Prime." Kerenne had recognized it. 

"There's money changing hands, lots of money. Rattatack pays its suppliers well. This sort of thing didn't happen when the Jedi negotiators were here." Rohnid stopped and rubbed his face, a suspicious brightness in his eyes giving evidence to his emotions. "Now, someone's trying to fund their politics with slave traders."

"Trying to gain favor with the king," Sarn murmured, glancing up from the financial ledger. His gaze drifted over them, landing on Ayliana, whose frown had grown with every word.

"But, won't the king protest?" she asked.

N'oenar shook his head. _How could she be so **naïve**?_ The harsh feeling that the thought accompanied shocked him, and his teeth clicked shut, his ready answer evaporating. Distantly, he heard Sarn answer. "The king doesn't care. The provinces have always maneuvered for power and wealth, but the Jedi held violence, and outright moral depravity, at bay, for the most part."

"Not anymore," N'oenar murmured, remembering Keruck.

"Not anymore," Rohnid agreed, and wiped his face again. "Wealth is power, with this government."

"Especially since the Emperor has raised the galactic tax," Sarn commented, frowning. "The provinces that bring in the most credits are the ones that the royal family will favor."

"That would hold with most governments," Zehrid said.

As the conversation moved to other planetary systems and their governments, N'oenar stopped paying attention. _Wealth is power._ His fingers fluttered over the saber hilt hidden under his cloak, and he sighed. Knowledge was power, also, but maybe this knowledge of the dark wasn't power he could control. But he _had_ to. Convulsively, he checked the shroud, relaxing when he realized it was still in place. He didn't even have to concentrate on it, now. The thought should have worried him, he knew, but it didn't.

Finally, Ayliana sat forward. "As interesting as this is… we'd better get moving, if we want to rent a room in the inn before nightfall." 

"Inn?" Rohnid asked.

"The one we used last time-"

"No!" N'oenar said roughly. When Ayliana turned to him, he tried to shrug casually. "I just…." How could he explain to her? The memories from that place would never let him rest. The light of the two moons reflecting off the water of the lake, casting a mottled glow over Kerenne's skin, her smile as they spoke late in the evening… even the conversation he'd shared with Jerner, the artful way he'd led N'oenar to the subject of the dark side, and N'oenar's use of it.

Sarn caught his eye, and nodded. "Actually, Rohnid has an apartment here, above the store. Should have enough room for you folks – not like you take up much space. That is, if he's cleaned it in the past decade or so." 

"It's clean!" Rohnid said, an affronted expression on his face. "Well, mostly."

Zehrid grinned. "As long as there's food, I don't care how messy it is."

"Come on. You're all hungry, I'll wager, and then will want sleep. And Sarn wants to get back to his wife, I'll wager again."

"Your wager is correct," Sarn said, smiling. They made their farewells, and discussed their plans for the next day. Sarn was determined to keep their minds off of their troubles, and as he put it, the best way to do that was to put them to work.

Once Sarn had left, Rohnid led the way to a hidden stairwell. When they reached the top, he palmed open the door and the sight that met them made N'oenar smile. It wasn't unclean, just cluttered, with datapads and odd objects strewn about. Although the apartment might not meet Sarn's standards, it was good enough for N'oenar's needs. A place to sleep, a place to hide from curious eyes, a place not tinged with memories of Kerenne.

They spent most of the next day in the back room of Rohnid's Rarities, assisting with cataloging the items there. N'oenar felt the sense of warning grow as he worked, but he tried to ignore it. There was little he could do, until it made its source known.

He didn't have to wait long.

After closing, they filed into the front of the store, working on the inventory there. Most of it was already carefully entered into the store's systems, but a few items were missing. N'oenar frowned at the datapad, trying to find the correct name for one of the wickedly serrated knives that hung behind the counter, when he felt a surge of warning.

He turned just as someone banged on the window of the shop. It was a trick of the glass that allowed them to see outside without letting those outside to see in, similar to the glass that separated the kitchen of Lysira's Lair from the front room.

A young man, younger than N'oenar but not by much, raised his arm to bang on the window again. Alarmed, Ayliana and N'oenar slipped into the shadows, and N'oenar pulled the shroud around him, sinking into the anger that was needed to fuel it. Who had followed them? His hand drifted to his saber hilt, though Ayliana shook her head. Gripping it tightly, he steadied himself; he would protect her at all costs. 

Sarn, to N'oenar's surprise, took one look at the young man's face and then hurried to the front door, flinging it open. "What's wrong, Danid? Where's Brienna? I thought she was with you-" 

"Who's Brienna?" Ayliana whispered.

"Sarn's niece." N'oenar studied the young man – Danid - and decided that his distress wasn't feigned. He loosened his grip on the saber. "They're close."

Danid grabbed Sarn's arm. "She was with me! We were, she wanted… we were out in the hills, looking for some crystals for a school project. They got her! Her parents are on holiday, so I came here. You've got to help!"

"They got her? Who, Danid?"

"They grabbed both of us, then this blue guy came, and said to only take the girl-" Sarn's face darkened at that, as did N'oenar's. _Yaril._ Ice trickled down N'oenar's spine, ice that quickly boiled in flame when he heard the young man continue, "-and the one grabbing me said don't be an idiot, a slave's a slave, and then the blue guy told him he'd hand-picked the right ones special for the Silver Cage."

"The Silver Cage?" N'oenar breathed, memory hitting him hard. An old woman's voice spoke, _Shroud the light, open the silver cage, lead the birds to freedom.… Find the blue tree, the silver cage – the birds are a treasure that you know not…._ Master Dannew's voice rose above hers in his mind, _The silver cage closes on them as they sing in the blue tree. It is your task, to free the birds. You own the key._

"Must be the name of their ship," Rohnid said, his voice low. "A slave's a slave…. The slavers have her, then?"

"Yes!" Danid's face was a panic. "I don't know who the blue guy was, but we've got to do something! They're leaving tomorrow!"

"I know who it is." His voice colder than durasteel, N'oenar stepped forward. "And I can find him." _Vengeance._

Sarn stared at him, then flicked his glance to Ayliana, his thoughts clear. They couldn't speak freely in front of Danid. With a sharp nod, he turned to Danid. "We'll take care of it. Come with me, young man. You need some strong spirits, and I don't care if your parents don't approve."

Once Danid was settled in the back room with a goblet of some strong spirits, Sarn returned to the others. "If you can find that… that…" Sarn's knuckles were white, his fists clenched. "I'll owe you more than you'll ever know, N'oenar."

"I'll go with him," Zehrid said.

N'oenar nodded. He'd been considering what to do while Sarn settled Danid, and he had the rough beginnings already. He and Zehrid could travel to the building where they'd been taken by Yaril - that was where the Utapaun was most likely to be. Then, if N'oenar dropped the shroud, he could draw him out. Lead him on a chase… then wrap himself in the shroud again, and attack when Yaril least expected, pulling information from him by force if necessary. While they were gone, the others could work on a way to get the captives out of the ship.

It could work. It had to work! The Silver Cage… the birds… but where? There was no time to waste. He explained his plan to the others, relieved when Zehrid nodded immediately.

"It'll be risky. What if Yaril attacks Zehrid?" Rohnid said.

"I'll be there, waiting." N'oenar saw Ayliana's mouth open, her brow furrowed, and he shook his head sharply. "That's why you can't come, Ayliana. He'll sense you before we're even close."

"But he won't sense you?" Zehrid asked, frowning. N'oenar caught Sarn's gaze. The other man stared at him for a moment, then nodded slowly.

"I told you, on Jabiim, that if it was for the right reasons, you'd get no argument from me," Sarn said, his eyes hard. "This is the right reason."

---

In no time, Zehrid and N'oenar found themselves in Sarn's speedercart, traveling from the cluster of buildings where he and Ayliana had been kept prisoner. N'oenar let the shroud down in intervals, attempting to draw Yaril out. He had felt the man, or he thought he had, but it was sporadic. 

Once they were away from the populated area, they chose a small valley to settle in, mountains of crystals flanking them on two sides. It was beautiful, but the sight did not penetrate his concentration.

"Are you ready?" N'oenar asked. Zehrid nodded, and hefted his blaster. "All right, then. I'll be hidden, but try keep his attention on you as much as you can." 

"Right. And I remember the plot just fine, so get hidden." He winked at N'oenar, then walked several paces from the speedercart.

N'oenar grinned at the other man and slid into place, ensuring that he was hidden from view within the speedercart, but still had a vantage point, narrow though it was. Surprise was necessary, he knew – though N'oenar himself now smoldered, Yaril had blazed for a long time. N'oenar closed his eyes and reached out with his senses, enough to sense a spark of heat approaching. Once again, he lowered the shroud and filled himself with the Force, with the light side of the Force, willing Yaril to see and respond.

It didn't take long; or perhaps it did, and his sense of time was skewed by the Force. Either way, Yaril soon appeared, his small transport gliding to a stop with barely a sound. The blue nostrils flared slightly as the Utapaun paused, looking around the valley, and N'oenar checked the shroud reflexively. It was solid, and he knew that Yaril would not be able to pick him out from where he hid in the shadows.

Finally, Yaril's gaze settled on Zehrid. "Alone? Where is your tame Jedi? I felt their presence, but no longer."

"They're gone," Zehrid said, his blaster trained on Yaril, who looked singularly disinterested in the weapon. "How did you get here so early? They left, to seek you out, to bring you here!"

"Pity," Yaril said, ignoring the question. "No matter – they will be found, since they were foolish enough to return to this planet. The royal family will be well pleased to obtain the bounty for them." 

"What? The last time we met, you said the favor of the royal family meant nothing to you." Zehrid's voice shook, and N'oenar smiled from his hiding place, impressed with the performance. 

"I've set my sights lower." Yaril's eyes narrowed, and he raised his hand. Without effort, the blaster was ripped from Zehrid's grip and flew through the air, landing with a loud crack against a small mound of red crystals. "You thought to trap me, but my senses are more powerful than your tame Jedi estimated. And now, you will be the perfect bait, to bring them close. On _my_ terms."

From the shroud, N'oenar readied himself. The field was bright, red gems glinting spectacularly in the sun. Distantly, in the part of him that welcomed the light side of the Force, he felt a sense of reluctance for what was to happen. Murder shouldn't happen like this, in the broad of daylight; it should happen in the shadows, in the evening, dark deeds covered by the black of night.

Then he saw Yaril raise his hand, felt the surge of the dark side being gathered, and felt the answering surge within. _And so, I will bring the shadows with me,_ N'oenar thought, gripping his saber as he left his hiding place.

Zehrid grinned widely, even as Yaril's invisible grip closed around his neck. The blue man hesitated, tilting his head to the side, but his expression was hidden from N'oenar. "Death… is it the thought of that long slumber that makes you smile so? Or, perhaps, you still believe to be in charge, that I play your game?"

Zehrid's fingers reached up to his neck, though his smile did not dim. N'oenar met his gaze as he approached the Utapaun from behind, and he nodded to Zehrid briefly before saying, "And, perhaps, he is correct." 

"You!" Yaril released Zehrid immediately, whirling to face N'oenar. N'oenar smiled thinly, his saber balanced in his hand.

"Me." With a snarl of rage, N'oenar struck out with a savage blow, which Yaril barely fended off. The Utapaun's expression, which had once held disdain, now held something else. N'oenar breathed in the hatred, and the fear, feeling the emotions from the other man strengthen his own power. The dark side pulsed, and he struggled to keep it from blazing.

"You've learned, haven't you, young one? Mastered the shroud, alone… with no teacher, even. I am impressed." Yaril smiled, curved teeth flashing in the sunlight. "The dark side flows through you – I can feel it, smell it, taste it. Imagine what else you could do with it, if I trained you, young one!"

"Where are the slaves?" N'oenar's voice was cold, emotionless. A stark contrast to the smoldering within.

"Slaves?" Yaril's expression was one of confusion. "What do you care for slaves? Unless… did I pick out a special friend of yours, perhaps? No matter; it's too late. They've been taken to the ship, and you can do nothing."

"Where is the slave ship?" N'oenar put all of his will and newfound power behind that question, and the Utapaun was not prepared for such an onslaught. "Where is the Silver Cage?"

"Beside the great falls in the Hroten province, just east of the great blue mountain." Yaril staggered, blinking, then snarled, "It doesn't matter – release them or not, there are always more to be found."

"But you hand-picked these, didn't you?" N'oenar's memory pulled at him. A distant voice spoke in his mind; the speedercart driver from their first trip to Gabris Prime: _a white mountain for the Danbreen province, a blue tree for the Hroten province, a cluster of red gems for the Rhentron province._ A blue tree for the Hroten province. The blue tree! The pieces fit too snugly.

"Payment has already been received." Yaril's eyes narrowed to slits. "Why don't you run, little Padawan? Run and hide. Don't you remember Roon? Your light is a beacon to the darkness - drawing it ever closer." 

_Roon. **Kerenne**_. That smoldering ember burst into flame. "Then let it come."

He didn't give Yaril time to react; with the added power from the dark side, he ignited his saber and sprang to the Utapaun, swinging his arm in a tight arc. Throat laid open, Yaril fell to the ground, a liquid gasp heralding the shade of death.

N'oenar stood for several heartbeats, staring down at the body, then reluctantly turned off his saber. He saw Zehrid watching him warily, and he forced the wildly burning fires within back to a smolder. The memory of his first reaction to killing a man, back in the undercity of Coruscant, slid into his mind and he almost laughed. Such shock he had felt, such naïve shock! And now… now, it was different. This time, it was a joy.


	22. Chapter 21

A/N: Many thanks to Buttercup for her fabulous beta services, and many apologies to the readers for the lateness of this chapter! This is the final chapter, with the exception of an epilogue to come shortly. I hope you enjoy it!

_Severing the Past_

**WendyNat**

Chapter Twenty-One  
-------------------  
N'oenar squinted, the sun's reflection off of the bright silver ship nearly blinding him. He shook his head and snuck back beside Ayliana. The waterfall Yaril had mentioned thundered nearby, and beyond a stand of stones Sarn and Zehrid awaited their report.

It was hard to believe that mere hours had passed since he'd stood over Yaril's body, his saber still humming in his hand. The sun was just now past its apex, and he estimated another couple of hours of daylight remained for them to plan their strategy.

The reconnaissance mission had proven useful so far; already they'd learned much by listening from their Force-enhanced cover. According to one overheard conversation, the higher level security teams were only on duty during the daylight hours while on Gabris Prime. The Silver Cage was stationed just out of normal foot range from the nearest population center, and at night no one would dare to use a speedercart or other transport because of the electrical storms.

A few beings still moved around the fat-bellied ship, calling loudly to their comrades and laughing as they finished preparations for the next morning's flight. N'oenar studied the ship itself, noting an open exhaust vent on the side closest to them. Suddenly, Ayliana gripped his arm, nodding towards two green-garbed figures. Frowning, N'oenar concentrated his will on their conversation.

"Yeah, you know, that blue guy." The first figure shrugged, scratching his head. "He said he might bring more, told us to stick around."

"That's why we haven't left yet? Because of him?" The second man leaned over and spat.

"More credits can't be bad-"

"This rock's been sucked dry already. Time to move on. We got nowhere near a full load yet, and I want to get back to my lady friend sometime."

"Worried that she'll take up with some other fella while you're gone?"

A bark of laughter. "Nah, not after-" He was cut off by a sharp order from his comm.

"Everyone on duty detail, back to the ship _now_!" 

A shrug came from the spitter. "Captain's on his game. I'll catch ya up later. C'mon."

N'oenar and Ayliana stayed a few more minutes, but there was nothing more to hear. Finally, N'oenar sat back on his heels and, in response to Ayliana's questioning glance, nodded. They had seen enough. Carefully, the two Padawans backed away from the slave ship and headed back to their friends.

---

"So you saw the ship?" Danid's voice was slightly less shrill than it had been earlier that day, but it still echoed unpleasantly in Rohnid's kitchen. After surveying the situation, N'oenar and the others had returned to Rohnid's apartment to work on a plan of attack. It hadn't taken long; after all, there weren't many options. Their plan depended entirely on the Padawans' ability to find a way into the slave ship without detection, and then their ability to lead the captives off of the ship without detection.

"We saw it," Ayliana said quietly. She looked at N'oenar and shook her head slightly. It wouldn't be easy. Their main hope was that what they had heard earlier held true, and the higher-level crewmembers – who were generally stronger-minded than their counterparts – would spend the night resting, leaving basic security to the lesser crew. 

"Then you can get into it!" Danid's hands shook. "Let's go now!"

"When night falls, Danid." The stool that Sarn perched on was dented and discolored, but it seemed the throne of a king, his eyes hard and determined as he prepared his generals for war.

Seeing Danid's mouth open for another protest, N'oenar raised a hand. "We'll need the cover of night while we search for a way into the ship. Plus, the security is more lax overnight, if what we overheard today is true."

"But-"

"Why don't you go lay down, son? We have this under control." Sarn's voice was soft, but there was durasteel behind it. Without argument, Danid stood and rubbed his face before making his way to the bedroom that Rohnid waved him to.

"Poor thing," Rohnid murmured.

_Poor thing? At least he still has hope._ N'oenar looked over at Ayliana, and checked the shroud again. Silently, he vowed to never let her out of his sight.

N'oenar's jaw tensed. "We need to wait till full dark, but I don't want to wait too long past that." Now that the long-awaited task was before him, he was eager to go, whether or not it was the wisest move. Yaril's words echoed in his mind: _Your light is a beacon to the darkness - drawing it ever closer._

"Just long enough to be certain they've settled in for the night," Ayliana said. Zehrid nodded.

"We've got time. They won't leave until the morning." Zehrid leaned against the counter beside Sarn, completely unaffected by the small man's newfound regal stature. "Wouldn't risk the electrical storms."

"True," Rohnid muttered, casting a sidelong glance at Sarn. "It's gonna be tight, though. You can't get them out too early, or you'll be stuck out on the crystal flats without any transport. The slavers'd pick everyone up easy. Too late, and…."

"And we're along for the ride," N'oenar said. "I hope those beacons of yours will work."

"They'll work." Rohnid sounded almost offended. "Just have to make some adjustments." 

"What do you mean?" Zehrid asked.

"They aren't strong enough yet to transmit much beyond a single star system." Sarn's voice was cool. "If they jump to light speed with you folks on board, we'll need the transmitters to have more power."

"And a few more tricks," Rohnid said with a grin. "At any rate, Sarn, these two would do better for some sleep before they go. That is, if you think-"

"You would do for some sleep, too, Rohnid," Ayliana said. "You've got to be alert tomorrow, in case we have to fall to the backup plan." 

"Have to finish the beacons." Rohnid caught Ayliana's eye and winked. "I'll be fine. Can always sleep in the ship, since Zehrid'll be piloting most the way."

"_All_ of the way, Rohnid. As if I'd let you pilot my ship!"

Sarn smiled – the first smile they'd seen from him since Danid had brought the news of Brienna's capture. "Always knew you were a bright one, Zehrid. Well, let's get a move on those beacons, then. Much as I'd love to think you'll be able to free them while the ship's still on Gabris Prime, it's best to plan for all possibilities."

"It'll be tough for us to get to them if they end up landing on Rattatack, even with the beacons," Rohnid said, his face troubled.

"We could land outside the main city and act like we're interested in purchasing some slaves," Zehrid suggested.

Sarn nodded slowly. "That might work. I'd prefer not to wait until Rattatack, though." 

"We overheard some of them saying that the ship isn't near full yet; they'll be stopping elsewhere before heading back," N'oenar said.

"Makes sense," Zehrid said. "They'll want to pick up more merchandise." When he caught sight of Sarn's expression, he raised his hands. "Sorry, Sarn. That's just how they see it, you know?"

"I know," Sarn said, his lips tight. "That's the problem."

Silence fell, then, until Ayliana stepped forward and put a reassuring hand on Sarn's bony shoulder. "We'll get her back."

A little while later, as they made preparations for the rescue mission, N'oenar cornered Ayliana in the room that they shared.

"Your light is a beacon to the darkness - drawing it ever closer." N'oenar tried to convey the gravity with his expression, even should she discount his words. "That's what Yaril said, right before… before he died."

"Before you killed him," she said, her voice holding a strange timbre. "I won't use the dark side, N'oenar, no matter what he told you."

"I'm not the one in danger, Ayliana!" N'oenar struggled to keep his emotions in check.

"Why would you even trust his words? You know that the dark side speaks half truths, when it's not outright lies."

"Not this time. Vader thinks I'm dead, and now he's searching for a young female Jedi. Don't you remember? Sarn said that, back on Jabiim." He barely held back a sneer. "You trust _him_, don't you? Vader is looking for you, Ayliana."

"Then I'll have to be careful."

"Yes! And if you really mean to be careful, then you'll learn to use the shroud. Please, Ayliana - it's easy, really, it is! Far easier than I'd thought, before…." He trailed off when she shook her head mutinously. 

"Easy." Ayliana flicked her eyes to the corner, where the trunk full of dark texts lurked, and her mouth tightened. "That's what I'm afraid of."

The reprimand may have been unspoken, but he heard it clearly. Guilt flooded him, guilt and shame. But as he stood, staring at the trunk, that guilt slowly began to transform into fear, and then anger, the emotions twisting their shape and countenance faster than he could track.

A foreign thought snaked into his mind, then, fueled by emotion: _Let her bring them, then, like moths to the flame. Let them come. I will stand in the shadows, and strike from behind…._ He frowned, and shook his head. _No! I won't use her as bait - she might die… I can't let her die. She must learn, she must! Stubborn…. I'll __**make**__ her see…._ Flames shot up from embers long smoldering, and he stepped forward, his hand on the hilt of his saber. He would show her the danger, _force_ her to do as he bid-

"N'oenar?" 

With a jolt, he stopped, staring at her in horror as his saber dropped from numb fingers. He had been about to strike out at her… his emotions, twisted, urging him to do the opposite of what he wished. She was to be protected - _that_ was why he was doing all of this!

What was happening to him?

His legs collapsed and he hit the floor, kneeling awkwardly before her. "Please, Ayliana… help me. Don't leave me alone… don't…."

Ayliana knelt and pulled him to her, and held tight. "I'm here, I'm here."

_The Keeper of the Faith_. "Don't… don't let me blaze."

"I won't."

Zehrid found them like that a few minutes later. He didn't comment on their position, for which N'oenar was grateful. He pulled away and, with a final squeeze of Ayliana's fingers, straightened and summoned a smile for the other man. "What's up? Did Rohnid finish already?" Mindful of the small space in the room, he moved over to sit on his bed.

"Not yet. Here, I brought you something to drink," Zehrid said, handing one of the bright orange cups he was carrying to N'oenar. He eyed the contents suspiciously, then shrugged and drank it down.

"Thanks, I-" Pausing, he frowned. "What was in that?" His voice sounded very distant to his ears.

"Something to help you rest. When you wake up, it'll feel like you'd slept for hours." Zehrid raised an eyebrow at him. "You'll need it. Both of you."

"But…" He couldn't finish; his lips and tongue made the motions, but no sound came out, and as he involuntarily fell back onto the bed, he cursed the other man for his stubborn thoughtfulness.

_He stood in a field, the old woman sitting in front of a fire, a pan of water in her hands. The flames were far higher, far fiercer, than they had been in his last vision of her. The reason for that tickled the back of his mind, but he refused to consider it._

"Do you always appear when I'm forced into sleep?"

The old woman jerked her thin shoulders in a shrug. "Forced? You weren't forced. Not this time."

"In a way."

"You took the drink. Your own fault that you did not question first." She shook the pan over the flames. "Just as with the shroud. Not forced, were you? You drank willingly."

"But I didn't know what it really was," N'oenar said, his voice hollow. 

"Didn't you?" She peered into the water, then nodded slowly. "The silver cage will surround you, but you will not be locked within. You must lead the birds to freedom. You have the ability to escape; you have the skill that others do not. Use that skill."

N'oenar stared at her and then looked down at his hands. One of them held his Padawan braid. With a sigh, he put it back into his pocket. "When we free the slaves, will the Force be done with me? Will my task be done?"

The old woman didn't answer. A moment later, she beckoned. Reluctantly, he moved to stand in front of her.

"You drink willingly," she whispered, placing the pan on the sandy ground. Milky, sightless eyes met his. "Look, and learn."

Taking a deep breath, he knelt and peered into the shallow pan of water. The vision came immediately, filling his mind and senses.

Zehrid stood in Ayliana's room, the other orange cup still in his hand. As N'oenar watched, the tall man shook his head and began to pace. "I don't know, Ayliana. He was just… different. I mean, I wanted Yaril dead, but…"

"But what?" Ayliana looked up at Zehrid, following him with her gaze. As the scene shifted, N'oenar could see his own form lying on the bed behind Zehrid.

"He liked it." Zehrid ran his free hand through his hair, unruly curls flattening under his palm and then springing up again. "The killing, I mean. He liked it."

Ayliana was silent.

"Something's changed, hasn't it?"

"Something… yes." Ayliana shook her head, placed a hand on Zehrid's arm. "Don't worry. I'll help him."

Zehrid placed his hand over hers and squeezed. "Good. I don't want to see anything happen to him. Kerenne, she…."

"I know."

"I feel responsible for him. For both of you. Weird, isn't it?"

Ayliana smiled. "Not weird. I feel the same way about you and N'oenar."

"Me? Nothing to worry about, here." Zehrid gave her a half-hearted smile. "So it looks like N'oenar's got both of us feeling responsible. That ought to make Kerenne happy - she'd probably come haunt me if something happened to him."

Ayliana looked down. "Probably."

There was an uncomfortable silence, then. Finally, Zehrid cleared his throat and held out the cup. "All right then. Time for you to sleep, too."

The vision faded, and he heard Master Dannew's voice, a memory unbidden. Warm your hands by the flame during this long winter's night. But venture too close and you will burn, flesh scorching and blood boiling_._

Suddenly, a fog surrounded him and he found it a struggle to breathe. Deep within, he heard Ayliana's voice, repeating the words Master Dannew had spoken to her in dream. "Worlds will not be saved nor destroyed by your actions, but lives of individuals will be saved and minds will be swayed, and to some that is of more importance than even the death of a world."

The fog thickened and darkness swirled around him, and as he tried to fight against it, he heard Ayliana's voice again. "I think she loved you."

Everything went black.

When N'oenar came back to himself, he knew he was still dreaming. He kept his eyes closed, concentrating on the sandy ground beneath him, on the rock that dug into his back. On anything other than the memory of Ayliana's voice.

I think she loved you.__

Tears drew hot lines down his temples. He felt a cool hand on his forehead, and it startled him into opening his eyes. The old woman knelt next to him, milky eyes staring into his. "So much pain. And not all done yet." 

When N'oenar woke, he looked over to where Ayliana still lay sleeping. As he watched her slow, steady breathing, the final words of the old woman resounded in his mind. What had the old woman meant?

He shook his head and stood, shoving aside all thoughts about the dream. Analyzing it would get him nowhere, and there were things that needed to be done in the waking world to prepare for their mission. He left the room in search of Rohnid.

He found the large man sitting with Zehrid in a small workroom off the kitchen.

"Awake already?" Zehrid said when he finally looked up and saw N'oenar in the doorway. "The beacons are almost done."

"Just a little bit more," Rohnid murmured, his large hands surprisingly deft as he maneuvered a small instrument into the center of one small transmitter.

"You heard the man," Zehrid said with a small grin. "You've got more time to sleep if you want."

"I think I've slept enough."

"Must have," Rohnid muttered. "That dose should've kept you under another hour, at least."

"It was enough," N'oenar repeated. Rohnid just grunted in response. A glance at the workroom's chronometer allayed N'oenar's sense of urgency somewhat; they had plenty of time, still, even considering the time it would take for them to reach the Silver Cage on foot.

Sarn appeared in the doorway, then, carrying a tray. "Heard the extra voice just in time," he commented, handing one cup out to N'oenar. "Just barkleaf tea, this time."

N'oenar accepted the cup gratefully, and tried to avoid wincing at the first sip of the harsh drink. It was relaxing, and he was able to clear his mind as he watched Rohnid work. It was almost like meditating, watching those large fingers work on the delicate instruments.

Soon enough, Rohnid was finished with the modifications. Ayliana was awake, though Danid still slept on. Sarn just winked at N'oenar when he asked about the young man, and N'oenar smiled wryly. No doubt the cup for Danid had held more of the sleeping agent than the one given to Ayliana and N'oenar.

"Pay attention, now, you two," Rohnid said gruffly. "This button here is an 'all right' signal to us. Hit it every now and then to let us know you're…."

"All right?" N'oenar supplied.

"Yeah. This one on the other side is a 'come get us now' signal. If you're able to get the slaves off here on Gabris Prime in the early morning before takeoff, hit it."

Sarn sat forward, looking at Ayliana and N'oenar intently. "And if we have to fall back to the plan B, hit it to let us know you're landing. We'll land nearby, and be ready to load and take off."

Ayliana nodded. "What's the third button?"

"The 'don't get us after all' signal. Just in case something happens, right, after you hit the come get us now." Rohnid frowned. "I guess you could also use that in the morning, if you don't think it'll be safe to escape before takeoff." 

Zehrid gave a low whistle. "That's a lot more than just expanding the range, big guy. These are pretty sophisticated devices."

Rohnid grinned. "I'm not just another pretty face."

The trip to the Silver Cage took less time than N'oenar had estimated – their feet moved swiftly and silently over the crystal flats, the Force lending lightness and speed to their travel. Staying in the deepest shadows behind some crystal mounds, they watched the ship and the surrounding area, making certain that there would be no surprises.

After watching for a time, N'oenar determined that there was just a single guard on patrol around the outside of the ship. N'oenar caught Ayliana's eye. "When he returns to the ship," he breathed, "we can slip in behind him."

She nodded slowly in response. As they waited, he inspected the outside of the ship once again. The exhaust vent that he'd noted earlier that day was still open. He wasn't comfortable entering the ship by that method, but once they were inside he could confirm it was connected to the air duct system and not an engine exhaust. It could make a good escape route.

He whispered his idea to Ayliana, and she scanned the open vent with a critical eye. "It's a little far from the ground," she murmured.

"Given the choice of a twisted ankle or a lifetime of servitude, which would you pick?" he whispered back.

"True." She chewed her lip thoughtfully. "We could use the Force to slow their descent-"

"No." The word came out louder than he'd expected, and they both fell silent until they assured themselves the guard hadn't noticed. "No, you can't." At her quizzical look, he shifted uncomfortably. "Your light shines bright without the shroud. I think we should… we should be careful about using the Force too much. He's searching for you."

There was no need to identify the "he" that N'oenar referred to. She gave him a level gaze, then nodded calmly.

"There!" N'oenar whispered as he saw a crack widen in the underbelly of the Silver Cage. The patrol guard walked up to the lowering ramp without even checking behind him. Even if he had, it was unlikely that he would notice the two Padawans coming up from the rear, silently leaping up to grab hold of the smooth opening and pulling themselves up away from the ramp.

Immediately they slid down the dimly lit corridor, away from where N'oenar estimated the bridge to be. He allowed the Force to guide him, and Ayliana didn't question as he suddenly took off down one side corridor and up one level, then halted before a reinforced doorway. Instead of the normal palm panel on the side of the door, there was a complicated-appearing control box with a number of symbols.

"Code-locked," Ayliana breathed. N'oenar nodded, frowning. How would they get in? If this was even the right room. Putting one hand to the door, he felt for the shroud and sighed in relief when he realized it was still there. Using a whisper of the Force, he reached out with his senses beyond the door, and another, and _felt_ something on the other side. 

"This is the right one." He looked at the door again, then up at the ceiling.

"How will we get in?"

"I have an idea. Come on," he said, walking down the corridor a ways, still staring up at the ceiling. Ayliana watched him quizzically for a moment, then her face cleared.

"The air ducts!" 

N'oenar nodded, still studying the ceiling. Distracted, he rounded the corner and froze when he felt a presence in front of him. 

The guard frowned, then jumped back and brought his hand to the blaster at his side. Instantly, N'oenar raised his own hand, fingers slowly squeezing together in a pinching motion as he used the Force without thought. A strangled gasp escaped the guard and at the sound, power flowed through N'oenar, whispering, demanding _more_. 

"N'oenar! Stop!" Ayliana's hiss penetrated his consciousness and he paused, confused, until she grabbed his elbow. He looked at her, blinking, as the dark power let go its hold. "The shroud is one thing… this… this is different."

Abashed, he dropped his hand, fear lancing through him. Why had killing been his first instinct? It was as if he'd opened a floodgate when he began to study the shroud, when he began to use the dark side in earnest. "You're right. I… I'm sorry, Ayliana. I don't know… I don't know what's happening. But I'll fix it."

Turning back to the recovering guard, he raised one hand and casually waved it, cautiously reaching out with the Force to bend the man's will. "You saw nothing out of the ordinary."

The guard's hand fell away from his throat. "I saw nothing."

One more casual movement of his hand, another careful bending of the mind. "We're just two other crewmen that couldn't sleep. Taking a walk around the ship."

The guard nodded dazedly. Satisfied, N'oenar and Ayliana began to walk the other direction, hoping to make it into hiding before any other guards showed. "Wait!"

N'oenar whipped around, already reaching for the dark side. The guard must mean to sound an alarm; N'oenar had to stop him before -

"Warm bantha milk," the guard called out.

Confused, N'oenar let go of the dark side, a part of him mourning its loss. "What?"

"Warm bantha milk. Best thing when you can't get to sleep."

"Ah… thanks. Didn't try that yet."

"No problem!" The guard waved at them cheerfully and then headed down the corridor, rubbing his neck. 

As soon as the man was out of sight, Ayliana turned to N'oenar. He braced himself for more recriminations, but instead she said, "We have to get out of the open. There's a grate over there."

N'oenar nodded and moved to stand under the grating. Reaching out with the Force from the safety of the shroud, he felt along the grate and then the duct system, testing the strength of the tubes. Satisfied, he nodded and reached out with the Force again, this time shifting the grate soundlessly out of the way.

"After you," he whispered to Ayliana, kneeling down before her. He boosted her up, then jumped up and gripped the edge with his fingers, pulling himself up.

The air duct was larger than he'd expected, and he wondered if it served a secondary purpose. Perhaps as an access point to some of the engineering sections, he thought, noting the railings and what appeared to be handholds.

N'oenar listened to his instincts, leading Ayliana through several turns and twists before suddenly halting in front of one grate. "Here. They're below." He looked back at Ayliana. "Are you ready?" If any guards were present in the slave quarters, there might be trouble.

She nodded slightly and, taking a deep breath, he moved the grate to one side and jumped through the opening, already reaching for the Force as he dropped. 

He hit the floor lightly and scanned the figures in the room. There were no guards, at least none that he could see or sense. But there were plenty of children, some just a few years younger than himself.

"Hey! Who're you?" one boy said, pushing aside one of the smaller children and standing before N'oenar. He heard Ayliana drop behind him, and saw the boy's eyes widen. "And who're _you_?"

"We're friends," N'oenar said, calmly waving his hand. He saw Ayliana stare at him from the corner of his eye, but he ignored her. A mind trick wasn't necessary, perhaps, but he didn't want to risk the boy sounding an alarm. 

However, instead of blankly repeating N'oenar's words, the boy scowled. "How do we know?"

N'oenar cursed inwardly. Of all the children to act as spokesperson, it had to be one strong-minded enough to brush off a Jedi mind trick as easily as he'd brush off a bit of dried mud from his shoe.

Ayliana stepped forward. "Because we're going to help you escape."

There was a commotion at that, until a young woman stepped forward and raised her hands. "Calm down, everyone! Last thing we need is a bunch of guards coming in here, wondering why we're not sleeping like good little prisoners."

"Thank you," N'oenar breathed. The girl turned towards him and winked, then gave him a sly grin. Unbidden, a memory rose to the surface of N'oenar's mind: _"Reminds me of Kerenne, actually, Brienna does. Same smile, like they're hiding something. Wicked things, both of them."_

Sarn had been right. They were similar.

"Brienna, isn't it?" 

The girl stared at him in surprise, then raised an eyebrow. "How did you-"

"Your uncle sent us." Ayliana nodded at the girl's hopeful look. "Danid came to him for help."

"So he did get away!" Brienna breathed, then turned to the boy who had originally challenged N'oenar. "Did you hear that, Joren? Danid got away!"

N'oenar frowned. "Well, you knew that already, didn't you? That is, he's not here…."

"This isn't the only room," Brienna said.

"There're three total where they keep slaves." Joren stared at N'oenar suspiciously. "If you're gonna help us escape, shouldn't you know that?"

Ayliana looked over at N'oenar, her smile barely suppressed. N'oenar sighed. "Why don't you fill us in on what you know?"

"Not just the rooms, but how the guards handle things with the captives. Do they come in on a schedule to check on you?" Ayliana asked, all amusement gone from her voice. 

Joren shrugged. "I've been here for three planets so far. They'll check on us right before takeoff, that's when they'll drop off more food."

"When else do they make rounds?"

The boy shrugged. "That's it, really, until we've landed at the next planet. Sometimes they do it while we're in space, but not much. Anyway, when they've landed they'll come back to check on us and add a few more kids to the room. Usually it's a half a day or a day… I lose track of time." The boy's eyes narrowed. "So what's your plan? We can't get out through the doors."

N'oenar nodded slowly, meeting Ayliana's gaze. The timing on Gabris Prime wouldn't just be tricky, it would be impossible. They had less than three hours until dawn, and from what they'd already overheard, he knew that the Captain would take off immediately. A guard would enter the slave quarters to check on them and then the external exhaust vent would be sealed in preparation for takeoff, cutting off their escape route.

"Three rooms, and no time. I guess we're going with Plan B?" Ayliana whispered to him. Reluctantly, N'oenar nodded.

"We'll have to wait until after we land at the next planet," N'oenar told the boy. "We're going to get all the slav- I mean, captives, together and out through the air ducts at one time. We'll have ships waiting."

"The air ducts?" Brienna stepped forward, her keen gaze strongly reminiscent of her uncle. At least she wasn't smiling. "Are they strong enough to hold dozens of people?"

"Yes." N'oenar's tone was closed, but Brienna pressed on.

"How do you know?"

He shot her a quelling glance, but she refused to be quelled. Finally, he looked over at Ayliana. They had discussed this already, and had agreed to avoid mentioning their abilities if at all possible. _What now?_ When he saw her shrug, he sighed and said, "I used the Force to judge the strength of the alloy. The ducts will hold."

"The Force?" the boy said, looking at him dubiously. "Like that blue guy?"

"No, not like him," N'oenar said harshly, not caring when the boy blinked in surprise. Ayliana laid a hand on his arm just as Brienna spoke again.

"But I thought all the Jedi were dead."

Ayliana smiled. "Not all of us."

_Not yet,_ N'oenar thought bitterly. He started when he felt a hand slide into his, gripping it tightly. He looked at Ayliana, saw her encouraging smile, and felt his spirits lift.

Without letting go of N'oenar's hand, Ayliana quickly filled the children in on the plan. After the ship entered the atmosphere, the children would need to enter the air ducts and head towards the external exhaust vent. Then they'd leave the ship and search out Sarn and Zehrid. "But first," she finished, "we have to find where the other captives are being held and tell them about the plan."

"It's just these three rooms. They're all in a row… sometimes we can hear the other ones."

"We have to be sure," N'oenar said, staring up at the grating. He itched to be on their way; they had no way of knowing exactly when the ship would take off, and they had two more rooms – at least – to speak with. He had already sent the appropriate signals to Rohnid.

"We don't doubt you, but we must be certain not to leave a single captive behind." Ayliana's voice was soothing. "First, we have to convince the others that they should trust us."

"I'll help." Brienna stepped forward. "It'll be quicker to convince them if some of us are with you."

N'oenar shrugged; it mattered little to him, so long as they were on their way. "No more than three."

He paced around the holding cabin while the others decided who would accompany them. One group of children sat against the wall, playing some sort of game that involved a bit of cloth and random clapping. Another group stood watching him closely as he paced. He nodded to them, and as he met the tallest boy's eyes, he felt a strange affinity flood him. It was so distracting that he almost didn't hear Ayliana calling to him.

"We're ready, N'oenar." 

Nodding to the tall boy, he left, still feeling a lingering sense of kinship as he walked away.

It didn't take as long as he'd feared to go over the plan with the other two rooms. It did, however, take long enough that the takeoff procedure started before they were able to complete their search for other captives and return the children to their quarters. Hoping that the guards wouldn't notice the three missing children, they stayed in the ducts until the ship was well out of the atmosphere.

As they were headed back to the room, N'oenar sensed danger approaching. Instinctively he clutched one of the handles lining the ducts. A split second later, a rush of air came through the duct, tearing at his grip. "Hold on!" he cried, reaching out and grabbing Brienna. He wrapped her fingers firmly around one of the handles, then turned to the others, his hair whipping into his eyes.

The other two children were holding on, but N'oenar's sense of warning didn't lessen. He opened his mouth to shout a warning, but a secondary gust of air in the shaft ripped Joren from the wall and he went flying. N'oenar reached out with the Force to grab him, but he was too late. Ayliana had already pulled on the Force to slow Joren's progress and pull him back to the side. N'oenar's stomach froze when he sensed her in the Force, her light proud and evident.

He hoped fervently that no one else was watching.

Later, he and Ayliana took off through the ducts alone, hoping to find out some information about the next planned landing. If they could give the children a more concrete time to prepare for, it would be easier on everyone. They moved through the ducts effortlessly, and it reminded N'oenar sharply of their trips through the laundry and trash chutes, escaping the Jedi temple, which reminded him of his orders.

He was so immersed in memory that he didn't relize they were over the bridge until Ayliana grabbed his arm. When he looked at her, she pointed to her ear and then the grate. _Listen_

Two voices were clear from the room below. N'oenar concentrated on breathing silently as he listened. 

"Captain-"

"There's no one on the comm. What's the meaning of this?" A pause, then the voice came again, this time angry. "I didn't order you to begin the landing sequence!"

"We were ordered to land so that the Empire can board for inspection, Captain. I didn't think it would be wise to ignore their request."

The answering voice was no longer angry, but shrill with fear. "The Empire! _What?_" 

"It's someone named Lord Vader, not the Emperor himself, but they insist on inspecting the vessel before we continue on."

"Well, what are you waiting for? Continue the landing sequence!"

They backed away from the grate, and in the dim light N'oenar could see Ayliana's eyes shining. "We're landing. It's our chance."

"Our only chance, if Vader's boarding." He forced himself to look away from her before his own expression gave away his emotions. Her light shone bright, and she refused to learn. Gripping her arm, he pulled her towards the slave cabins. "Come on."

Working swiftly, they entered each room in turn and assisted the captives into the air ducts. A single fierce look from N'oenar was enough to keep them silent – they knew the plan, as well as the stakes if they should fail.

The final room took far too long in N'oenar's estimation. They had just a few children left when the ship finally landed. Fear rose in him like a black cloud. "Hurry, Ayliana! We need to be gone when he arrives."

But it wasn't to be so. The moment after the craft settled firmly on its landing gear, N'oenar heard the hiss of the ramp opening below them. With his senses enhanced by the Force, he could feel Vader approaching the Silver Cage. Ayliana caught his eye, and he knew that she felt it, also. They urged the final captives to move more quickly, practically shoving them through the open panel above the holding chambers. 

Hoping that the boarding protocol on a slaver ship would take as long as it did with normal bureaucracies, he caught the edge of the vent and pulled himself up enough to see the children huddled in the duct. In an urgent whisper, he ordered them to move towards the external exhaust. "Go, keep moving! Quietly – we'll be with you straightaway."

A faintly heard voice from below – where the ramp was located - sent icy fear to the pit of his stomach. "You appear to have a breach in your security, Captain."

He couldn't hear the rest, but he recognized the speaker. Vader. He could sense the Sith Lord easily, which at first confused him. But then he realized – why would the man bother with the shroud? Why would Darth Vader waste energy hiding his powers, when he had nothing to hide from – nothing to fear?

Dropping to the floor silently, N'oenar caught Ayliana's gaze. He shook his head at her - _let me_ - and then concentrated all his will on the voices. They came into focus, bolstered by the dark power roiling within him, power that was safely hidden beneath the shroud.

"Jedi? Well, we have some… ah… some passengers. But they're not Jedi."

"Passengers." A pause, then, "Show me."

"All right. They're in a few different rooms. Right this way."

He could feel them approaching. They were in the corridor, headed towards the The footsteps approached in the corridor. It would take a minute or two for them to get through each of the security doors. Too long, and not long enough.

His fingers fluttered over the hilt of his saber, but he knew it would be pointless. The dark Jedi that N'oenar had fought had been amateurs – Padawans, in a way – while the man outside was a true Master. He knew he didn't stand a chance. As a Jedi, or a Sith.

Ayliana was watching him expectantly. "They're coming to this room," he whispered, his voice barely a breath. Ayliana nodded calmly.

"Go, N'oenar. Get them out." Ayliana's voice was calm. Deadly calm.

Mindful of the beings in the corridor, he kept his voice low. "No, you have to come with us-"

"I can't."

"But-" His mind cast around wildly. He knew she was right, but there had to be another answer! There had to be… "Call on the shroud now! You can do it, Ayliana, you can! You've seen me practice! The fear, use it!"

"But I'm not afraid."

He felt like ripping his hair out, like screaming, like…. The anger and fear came so easily to him, now, that it was second nature. And that made him more afraid.

"You should be afraid! Why aren't you? Be afraid… if not for yourself, be afraid for the children, the slaves, then!"

_Be afraid for me._

She smiled sadly and laid one hand along his cheek. "N'oenar. You know what has to happen. You can hide; I can't. I won't. He already knows; he's sensed us. He's sensed _me_."

The footsteps approached the second door, and N'oenar heard Vader say, "The Jedi is here. Leave, Captain. I do not require your assistance any further."

The Captain's reply was softer, but audible. "All right, but… you….." Vader must have conveyed something silently, because the next words were, "My apologies, Lord Vader. Here's the sequence you need to enter, let me just get them on this datapad…."

There was no more time. "Ayliana, please-"

"Goodbye, brother of my heart. Protect the slaves. Guide them out; they'll need you. The children need you. _Hide. __**Live**_." 

He choked back a sob and opened his mouth for one more protest, but he knew… he could _feel_ it… Vader was too close to them. The door would soon open. The slaves needed someone to lead them off the ship, to lead them back to where Zehrid and Sarn waited with the transports. But….

She leaned over and kissed his cheek. "Go. I am the Keeper of the Faith. I will be one with the Force. And through the Force, I will always be with you, N'oenar. You will not be alone."

He couldn't speak past the thickness in his throat. With a nod, and a long final look at her peaceful face, he filled himself with fear and anger and sorrow, hiding within himself. Hiding within the Force. Covering his light with the shroud. Only then, only when he was hidden completely in the Force, did he step away from Ayliana and her light.

Quickly he leaped up and grabbed the edge of the open ventilation shaft. He pulled himself through and lifted the grating back into place, moving silently. Backing away from the opening, he turned and looked up and down the shaft length, his Force-enhanced senses easily picking out where the others were gathered in the shadowed vent. They were silent, huddled together, watching him. Waiting. He had just begun to head towards them when he felt it.

The presence. It grew strong. Unable to stop himself, he crept back to the grate, peering through the opening into the room he'd just left.

The respirator was steady and slow, the voice mechanical and monotone. Only the speed of speech told of any anger. Cold, he sounded, though N'oenar knew – all too well - the heat that lay beneath that cool surface. Ice gives way to flame. Except this one did not even attempt to smolder… he blazed, blazed like a thousand furnaces, an endless cavern of fierce flames.

"So. Not a Jedi, but a Padawan."

Ayliana ignored his comment. "The slaves are gone, Vader. You won't have them."

"Slaves?" The dark figure paused, and N'oenar frowned, edging closer to the opening. The light… a light began to shine from Vader, but then it was gone again. It had seemed somehow familiar….

_Luminous beings, we are._

A chill crept down his spine.

"Yes, slaves. I freed them, and they're gone now." Ayliana settled her stance and pulled out her saber. The green light shone on her face, illuminating it with an unearthly glow.

"And you think one noble act will erase the black stain of treason from your conscience?"

"Treason?" Ayliana stared at the Sith Lord, honest confusion etched on her features. "There was no trea-"

Continuing as if she hadn't spoken, the deep, mechanized voice declared, "If they are gone, then they will live. You, however, should not have lingered."

A red glow joined the green one, and N'oenar's mind raced, trying to think of some answer, some way to help her, something he could do, something other than simply _hide_… the fear twisted around him and he held onto it tightly, strengthening the shroud… _live_…

The blades met.

Green and red, he watched, unblinking, as they whirled and crashed together, the glows burning into his retinas. Loud humming, electrical crashes, Ayliana spun and twisted, meeting Vader's blade with fierce determination, with the strength of the righteous. Vader stepped back once… and then again…. For a brief time, N'oenar began to hope. Maybe she could do it, where others had failed! Maybe she could-

Then he realized the truth: Vader was toying with her.

"I have not met a saber in many days. I hoped you would give me some practice before your death, traitor, but it seems you have failed in this, as well."

Then the Chosen One pulled on his power, on the Force, on both sides of it… dark and light… oily black snaking through the brightness… his blade rose and fell, fast, strong, steady. N'oenar knew he shouldn't watch, but couldn't help himself. His sister – sister of his heart, if not his blood – fought valiantly. But then, one misstep… a red slash, red like the darkest center of flame, red like blood. A muffled groan, and then the horrific sound of her body falling to the floor, the red following her….

Hope shattered.

He watched numbly as Vader turned off his saber, attached it to his belt. He listened without truly hearing as a low voice came from the dark figure. "Slaves." 

And then… a light shone brightly in the Force. So brightly. The black mask turned towards the vent and N'oenar frantically scrabbled for the dark, only to find that his fear and anger had maintained the shroud even without his conscious effort.

But, why was Vader's attention drawn to- no! His eyes followed Vader's line of sight, fixing on the corner of the vent grating. A small bit of torn cloth hung from the edge. A painted arrow, lighting the direction the slaves had escaped.

He had failed.

Then, the light shone again, and he heard Vader's breathing, loud and unnatural, in the silent room. His eyes were drawn to where Ayliana lay, and the silence of her form, the stillness, cut him in a way nothing else had. His saber hilt held tight in his hand, he waited for Vader to beckon, to rip the vent cover away from the opening with a gesture, to find the slaves and slaughter them, as he had the children in the Jedi Temple.

N'oenar would be ready. He would slow this creature that used to be Anakin Skywalker long enough for the slaves to escape. He could blaze, if he must.

One more mechanical breath, then a slow nod, and to N'oenar's surprise the black figure turned away from the grate and walked from the room, cape rippling behind him.

From the corridor, he heard Vader's voice, the unmistakable mechanical tones grating on ears sensitized by the Force. "There are no survivors."

Another voice, one that he recognized… the whiny tones of the slave ship's captain. "No survivors? But, what about our shipment? Do you have any idea how many credi-" A horrible choking sound came, then, and N'oenar smiled bitterly.

"Your shipment was without the Emperor's approval and, therefore-" The thick thud of a body hitting the floor echoed from the corridor. "-I am relaying his displeasure." Then N'oenar heard nothing but the breathing from Vader's regulator and the sound of his footsteps, slowly diminishing as the Sith Lord walked away.

---

N'oenar held onto the anger and fear, maintaining the shroud, until he and the former captives were far from the Silver Cage. Far from Vader. Even then, he continued to hold onto it, clinging desperately to the emotions that protected him from detection.

The trip was a blur. Rohnid and Sarn handled the travel arrangements, identifying those children that lived near each other, separating them into groups for ease of transport. He rode with Sarn back to Gabris Prime, with Brienna's group. Many had been taken from the Hroten province, and he endured the families' gratefulness as well as he could, summoning a half smile when appropriate, speaking short words when necessary. Sarn understood, and did not disturb him beyond a clap to the shoulder on occasion.

When they reached their final destination, Brienna's home, he accepted her family's invitation to stay with them for a time. He knew he could lower the shroud, now, so long as he didn't use the Force, but he clung to it, denying the need to let it go… fear and anger were his existence, and he welcomed them, using them as a shield against more painful emotions. 

Eventually, however, anger and fear had to fade. And he had to dream.

_The Jedi Council chamber was empty, except for his master. No chairs sat in a circle, no dark cloud hung within, no other beings made their presence known._

"You have done well." Master Dannew's voice was calm, steady.

"The birds are free," N'oenar said, his voice hollow. Was it worth it? Was all of this worth it?

Master Dannew nodded. "The birds are free."

He could feel his Master's eyes follow him as he walked to the window. The blackness still hung outside, but it did not roil with the same intensity. The Force's will had been done. He clenched his fists, then relaxed them with an effort. "Many of them will become Force users, won't they? The captives."

"Yes."

"Yaril chose them, special…. You said they would be the building blocks – some of the building blocks - that recreate the Order. " N'oenar squeezed his eyes shut. "Who will train them? I… I can't."

"I know."

"I can't… I can't use the Force any longer, Master. I can't."

Master Dannew moved to stand beside him, and he could feel the weight of his stare, sadness seeping from him. "It is your choice."

"No. I have no choice, not now."

"There is always choice."

N'oenar shook his head. "Not for me. I never learned… things… the dark side, how to wrestle it-"

"It can be learned. The will of the Force-"

N'oenar whirled on his Master, then. "It was the will of the Force that Kerenne should die? That Keruck should be killed? That Ay…" He squeezed his eyes shut and turned back to the window. "That Ayliana should die?"

"The will of the Force isn't always clear at first-"

"If that was the will of the Force, then I want nothing more to do with it!" he snarled, pounding the cool glass with one fist.

"You still have a task."

"I deny it."

Master Dannew continued as if N'oenar hadn't spoken. "Knowledge you hold. Ayliana was the embodiment of the Jedi Order. She kept the faith, and shared it. You are the embodiment of its knowledge. You must keep it, and share it."

N'oenar stared at his hand, silent.

"You must share that knowledge. If not now-"

"I can't." He bowed his head and let his arm drop to his side. Then he felt a hand on his shoulder, and he looked up into his Master's calm eyes.

"You have time. The blood of the Chosen One will light the way." Master Dannew squeezed his shoulder gently. "The Force will always be with you, N'oenar, whether you choose to see it or not."

He couldn't breathe. Leaping from the guest room bed, he ran out into the rear yard, stumbled to the riverbank. The sound of the water was low, rippling, constant, and would have been a comfort to him in any other time.

But not now.

Everything rushed in at once. Her muffled cry. The sound of her body falling to the ground. The steady, inhuman breathing from _him_. Now that the children were safely away, now that the shroud had lowered, he had time to think. To remember. To _feel_.

And right now, to _feel_ was the last thing he wanted to do.

_There is no death; there is the Force._

A wave of nausea crashed over him and he bent over, wretching.

_Do not mourn those that join the Force… Rejoice in their passing…_

Rejoice? _How?_

Rejoice that she'd been killed by a dark Jedi, by a fallen hero, by a man who had been trained by the best of the best to kill with efficiency and coldness? Rejoice? Skywalker may not show joy in his face, but he certainly showed it with his actions. How many Jedi had he killed? How much _joy_ had Vader brought to the Force?

Was N'oenar the last? The last living Jedi?

He didn't want this. Not… no. He wouldn't follow it any longer. He couldn't. He had lost too much, gained too little. His hand shaking, he pulled the braid from his pocket and stared at it. The symbol of his Padawan status. The symbol of the past. It had been severed from his head, thrown to the ground, and though he'd tried to catch it and hold onto it, it was forever lost to him. The Jedi were lost. _He_ was lost… almost. The darkness was ever present, waiting, waiting….

_You're not a Jedi. Hide. __**Live.**_."

His final order. And he would obey it.

He would not fall to the dark.

He would not become truly lost.

He would hide. And he would live, but not as a Jedi. The last true Jedi had died. Ayliana, sister of his heart, had died.

Walking to the edge, he stared at the river. It flowed past, blissfully ignorant of misfortune and pain. Without care for his troubles. Like the Force. 

Sever the past.

He tightened his fist around the braid and then, his jaw clenched hard, he threw it into the rushing water.


End file.
